HD2 Press & Predators
by KennaC
Summary: Sequel to Exploring Fraud and Friendship. Frank heads to Chicago to visit Nancy, but also avoid the press that has been hounding him. Unfortunately, in Chicago, the Press is the least of their problems.
1. Chapter 1

**Press and Predators**

A/N: I published this initially without the usual disclaimers and notes :S . . . I don't own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys, just like to play with them. I make no money from this. I hope you'll read and enjoy .... and if you do, please review!

**Summary: **Sequel to _Exploring Fraud and Friendship _(helpful, but not essential, to read that first)_. _Frank is finding life uncomfortable when he is thrust into the limelight after the feds release the story of the identity theft case to the media. He heads to Chicago to visit Nancy and escape. Unfortunately, the press is the least of their worries.

**Chapter 1: Full Court Press**

"Special Agent Daniel Jarvi of the Federal Bureau of Investigation credits this Bayport native, Frank Hardy, with blowing the identity theft ring wide open last week. In the course of . . ."

Nancy Drew tuned out Chicago's six-o'clock news reporter. After all she knew the story first-hand, having been closely involved in it with Frank. She stared at her favorite dark-haired detective's face on the television screen and sighed. She had left New York less than a week ago, and it felt like a piece of her was missing with him there and her here. Times like this made her seriously question her decision to agree to give the long-distance relationship a try.

"Oh my God, is that Frank Hardy?" Nancy's good friend, Bess Marvin came hurrying out of the kitchen in Nancy's tiny efficiency in Chicago, carrying a tall glass of cola and a bag of potato chips. She plopped onto the couch, her platinum blond hair, in large loopy curls bobbing around her face.

Bess grimaced as she took out a single potato chip and nibbled at it. "Honestly, why do we have these nights with all the junk food just when I'm trying to start a new diet?"

"On a girl's night, there is no such word as diet. Besides, you don't _need _to lose weight, Bess."

"Easy for you to say, miss slim-body, with the good-looking, _and famous_ new boyfriend," Bess said.

Their attention returned to the TV as the reporter wrapped up her narrative with an introduction to an up close and personal interview with the hero himself.

Nancy sighed. "Frank hasn't had a moment of peace since Special Agent Jarvi held the initial press conference yesterday."

She had talked to Frank last night, and he was already tiring of the non-stop phone calls. He had used the excuse to keep her on the phone for over an hour, not that she had complained. Hearing his voice was the next best thing to actually seeing him.

"Well, I'm sure it doesn't hurt that he's tall, dark and handsome," Bess said. "I mean, Frank would attract a lot of viewers, and don't think the news stations don't recognize that."

Nancy shushed her friend on the pretense of wanting to hear the ensuing interview, which she did. But she also _didn't_ want to think about a bunch of women salivating over Frank. She was ready to tattoo 'TAKEN' across his forehead.

Tall and lean, with wavy brown hair and dark eyes, Frank was the kind of guy that would turn heads even without the feds' recognition. If the women who glanced his way knew what a nice guy he was, he'd _really_ never get any peace. What really bothered her was that she and Frank hadn't even been dating a week, and already she felt possessive. Nancy felt a jolt of jealousy as even the pretty young reporter on the television put a solicitous hand on his arm, her eyes straying to his ring finger, before she asked the first question.

"Frank, I know this isn't your first big case, but tell us, how does it feel to know that you are responsible for the apprehension, over the last several days of more than two dozen prominent crime figures nationwide?" The reporter smiled coyly at Frank as she shoved the microphone in his face.

Frank was predictably oblivious to the flirtatious look, and answered with a studious seriousness that made Nancy smile. "No one is solely responsible for the apprehension of those criminals. As Special Agent Jarvi stated during his press conference yesterday afternoon, those arrests have been the result of a carefully coordinated operation by the FBI."

"But, Frank, isn't it true that you were the one that discovered the identity theft ring? In fact, were you not kidnapped and held against your will as the criminals responsible tried to make sure that your knowledge didn't compromise their larcenous schemes?"

"Jeez, did she swallow a thesaurus or something?" Bess mumbled around a mouthful of potato chips. Nancy nearly snorted her drink out of her nose.

On the screen, Frank was answering in his usual accurate manner. "I was not working alone. Several excellent investigators, including Nancy Drew of Chicago, . . ."

In the midst of Frank's response, Bess heaved a girly sigh. "Aw, did you see how his face softened just mentioning your name, Nan?" Nancy waved a hand to silence her.

". . . my brother, Joe Hardy, and my father, Fenton Hardy were all closely involved in the investigation from the beginning. This kind of thing doesn't happen in a vacuum. And if it hadn't been for Nan –"

The reporter interrupted him, "As I understand, none of them would have been involved if you had not found the clues to the identity theft scheme in the first place. Isn't that right, Frank?"

Nancy recognized the signs that Frank was losing patience. "Nancy and Joe were involved from the beginning. All I did were some statistical analyses that identified the data anomalies hinting at the identity theft scam. Trust me, my involvement was far less interesting than you're trying to make it sound."

"Come on, Frank, give us the scoop on the kidnapping. Isn't it true that you spent several hours making your way from the old abandoned bunker deep in the woods of Harrington State Park to West Point with a whole gang of thugs on your tail, only to be picked up and put in jail by the MPs?"

"Again, I wasn't alone –"

"And isn't it true that one of the Academy Lieutenants has been implicated in the criminal ring responsible?"

Frank shook his head. "I don't think you need _me_ to do this interview."

The camera followed his retreating back for several seconds before turning back to the reporter. "There you are folks. The modest words of New York's local hometown hero, Frank Hardy, downplaying his significant role in breaking one of the largest identity theft rings in recent history."

"Wow, she did make it sound like Frank did it single-handedly. Were you even in the same town when all this happened?" Bess turned wide, teasing eyes on Nancy, who leaned forward to turn the TV volume down.

"Frank said it's really frustrating because the media isn't interested in the truth, just in what sells. One good thing is coming out of this mess, though." Nancy smiled. "He's moved up his timetable to come out here. U of I has been bugging him about visiting for a tour in consideration of the PhD assistantship offer, and he finally relented and said he would talk to them. He's flying in next Wednesday, spending the night in Urbana, then driving up to Chicago on Thursday."

Bess chuckled. "You should see your face when you talk about him, Nan. I don't ever remember you being so enthusiastic when Ned was the topic of conversation."

The discussion had taken an uncomfortable turn, but Nancy was saved from having to continue it by the sound of the buzzer. She jumped up from the couch, "Hopefully that's the pizza and wings. I'm starving."

Snatching the money off the kitchen bar, she hurried to the intercom and pressed the button. "Hello?"

"Um, hel-hello, ma'am. I have pizza for Nancy? Nancy Drew?"

"I'll be right down."

Nancy shoved her feet into her slippers. "I'll be back in a minute, Bess."

Jogging down the three flights of stairs in the old tenement, Nancy had time to think about Bess' observation. Were her feelings for Frank really that obvious? Over the last several days she had vacillated between giddy happiness and confounding guilt over what she had come to think of as a self-indulgent decision to start a relationship with Frank.

The truth was that she worried that she was just going to hold him back. He was finishing up his Master's in High Tech Crime, had a couple PhD assistantship offers as well as an attractive job offer from the FBI, _and_ his father was holding a spot for him in the family PI business. Frank was an excellent investigator, and everyone who knew him, knew he had a bright career ahead of him.

She cringed every time she thought about the presumptuous condition she had placed on their relationship a scant week ago, _'I like my job. I like working for Riley. And I am not leaving Chicago. At least not right now.'_ If push came to shove, _would_ she leave her current career path behind to follow her rising-star boyfriend? Based on how she had felt since they parted last weekend, she probably would, and the recognition of that fact chafed. Her personal resolve not to get hung up on Frank when she went to New York hadn't done anything to save her once he was standing in front of her broaching the possibility of a serious relationship. She wasn't sure whether she was bigger fool for accepting, or for thinking she could resist the temptation.

She was totally distracted by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs. Through the old glass of the heavy front door she could see the wavy image of the pizza delivery guy standing outside in the dim light of the fading day. She opened the door, but before she could say a word a man in a trench coat pushed the kid aside and stepped in front of Nancy.

Without conscious thought, Nancy grabbed the hand that reached out to her by the thumb. She used his forward momentum to pull him further toward her as she stepped aside, and twisted his arm behind him.

Using her hip, she slammed him face-first against the door, pinning his hand against the middle of his back.

Something clattered to the floor at her feet, but her eyes were drawn to his companion standing just a couple steps down. She was in trouble.

*

Frank was relieved to see an empty front yard when he pulled into the drive at his parent's house in Bayport, New York. His relief was short-lived. As he started up the walk to the front door, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to find a news crew rushing across the sleepy, residential street toward him. He resisted the urge to run to the front door, but did increase his pace. Unfortunately, not quite enough.

"Frank, is it true that the Military Police put you in lockup?"

Flinching as yet another microphone was shoved in his face, Frank's composure snapped. "Please, leave me alone. If you want further information about the identity theft case I suggest you contact FBI Special Agent Jarvi. I have nothing more to say."

"But Frank, your neighbors and friends want to know –"

He jerked the door open, stepped inside, and slammed the door on the next question.

When he turned around his mother was standing there looking at him. "Another reporter?"

"They're relentless. There was a whole pack of them waiting at the office this morning when I arrived, _and_ when I left. Dad told me the only way to get them to leave was going to be to pick one and tell them what happened. But when I tried that, they wouldn't really listen. All they want to do is sensationalize the whole damn thing!" Frank raked a hand back through his hair in frustration.

His mother took his computer bag from his arm and set it on the floor, then led him into the kitchen. "Your father and I were talking at lunch. We thought perhaps you should move up your time-table even more and head to Chicago this weekend. Stay for a week or so and visit Nancy. You've been miserable since she left, anyway."

"I haven't been miserable."

His mother gave him a gentle push into a chair and walked to the counter. When she returned to the table, she placed a glass of milk and a plate of cookies in front of him.

"Don't lie to your mother, Franklin Hardy. You miss that girl."

Frank chuckled as he picked up a cookie. "I'm not ten anymore, Mom. Cookies and milk are not going to fix my problems."

Laura sat down and picked up a cookie, too, pointing it at him. "I know. But they're just out of the oven, and I know how you love warm chocolate chip cookies."

"Yeah, I do."

She put a hand on his arm. "And don't tell me that spending a week with Nancy wouldn't make you happy, because I know it would."

"Yes, it would. It would make me very happy." He looked over at his mother. Maybe things hadn't changed so much since he was ten. She had always known how to get him to open up then, too. "I love Nan, Mom."

"I know you do. She's a lucky girl." She stood as the timer on the oven went off.

Frank took a bite of his cookie, murmuring under his breath. "I just hope she thinks so."

His mother's super-human hearing always had surprised him. "I'm sure she does, Frank. For such a confident young man, you are endearingly unsure of yourself where Nancy is concerned. Trust me, she's as in love with you as you are with her."

Frank wasn't so sure. Nancy had seemed kind of stand-offish the last couple days when they talked. He was worried that the distance thing was taking a toll already. He wondered what they would do when he went back to school in July. It would be a lot longer than a week between visits, then.

He really didn't like the separation himself. They had spent less than 48 hours as a couple before she had to go back to her job in Chicago. He was still surprised at how easily they had slipped into this new phase of their relationship. For him it had been a relief to finally acknowledge and act on the feelings that he had for Nancy – feelings that had been present for quite some time. But it had made the goodbye that much harder.

They had spoken every evening since she left, but it just wasn't the same as having her with him, seeing her face, even just touching her hand. He found himself replaying the more private moments of their time together just to get him through until he could talk to her again. Those two days had been just enough time for him to realize how long, and how badly, he had wanted this relationship with Nancy.

The doorbell chimed, and Laura set down the cookies she had just taken out of the oven, waving Frank back into his seat. "I'll get it. You finish your milk and cookies."

A minute later, Special Agent Daniel Jarvi was sitting down at the table with Frank.

"I'm glad I caught up with you, Frank."

"Daniel, can I get you a coffee, or maybe some milk?"

"I'll take some coffee, Laura, thanks." Jarvi gave Frank an appraising once-over. "I saw the news van out there. You're quite the local celebrity."

Frank grimaced. "They won't leave me alone."

Jarvi chuckled. "Give it a couple days. They'll move on to the next big story."

"The sooner, the better," Frank said. "Why are you here, sir?"

"Please, Frank, call me Dan. It makes me feel older than I am when you call me 'sir.' I'm here because we've gotten some recent intel that has me a little concerned."

"What does that have to do with me?"

Jarvi glanced back at Frank's mother uncomfortably. She set a cup of coffee in front of him and looked at Frank. "Do you need some privacy?"

"Do you mind giving us a minute, Mom?"

She disappeared from the room silently, and Frank leaned forward and looked at Jarvi intently. "Tell me why I just sent my mother out of her own kitchen."

"There are rumors that there is a contract out on your life, Frank. I'm here to talk to you about the possibility of protective custody –"

"No way."

Jarvi sat back with a resigned smirk. "I told them you wouldn't do it. I did think you'd at least give it some serious consideration, though."

"What about Nancy?"

"Nothing about her in any of the underground rumblings. Your face is the one that's been plastered all over the TV in conjunction with this identity theft ring, and you're the one they're targeting."

"They, as in who?"

"If I had to guess, the East Coast Syndicate. I would suspect the other regions are involved peripherally, but the East Coast took the biggest hit in this bust, as would be expected given Hathaway Adjusters geographic locations. Like I said, it's just rumors, but rumors start somewhere."

Frank decided to at least entertain the suggestion, though he certainly doubted he would change his mind. "So if I were to go into protective custody, how long would I be under wraps?"

Jarvi pursed his lips. "It's difficult to say."

One look at Jarvi told Frank what he already knew. "There's no end-game, here, Dan. It's not like I'd be in until a trial, or until the busts are complete. I'm not willing to give up my life indefinitely for some vague rumors in the organized crime underground."

"I understand your logic, Frank. But consider the fact that everyone around you is put at risk –"

Frank took a deep breath. "So I lay low for awhile. Maybe the media will forget about me, too. I'm heading to Chicago to see Nan, anyway –"

"I'd feel better if you at least let me send a detail with you."

"I'll be in Chicago –"

"Where any hit man worth his salt is going to know to look for you. I would feel better if you at least had a couple of agents with you." Jarvi's gaze was uncompromising.

"I am not going into protective custody."

"I'm just talking about a couple agents hanging out with you and Nancy, and keeping the vultures at bay."

Frank slumped back in his chair. "Fine. But I'm not feeding them or putting them out."

He knew he was being petulant, but all he wanted was to go to Chicago and have a quiet visit with Nancy. He felt strongly that they needed some time alone to solidify the commitment they had made to each other last weekend, and get comfortable with the new playing field of their relationship. Having a couple feds hanging around was going to make that difficult.

"You'd be right at home in our department with smartass comments like that, Frank." Jarvi chuckled, but then his gaze narrowed. "Speaking of which, have you considered the job offer anymore?"

Frank shrugged noncommittally. "Nan and I haven't really gotten a chance to discuss our options in detail, yet."

"It's a good offer, Frank. I've never seen the brass salivate over a recruit like they are you."

"I appreciate _my_ offer, but I'm not rushing into anything. In the end, it's all going to depend on what's best for us."

"You and Nancy?"

"Yes, me _and Nancy_. And the offer the Bureau made her was pathetic."

"She wasn't the one that found the scam, Frank."

"No, but she was the one that saved our asses. I'm not making a move, or discussing anything unless she's included."

Jarvi grinned. "Stick to your guns, Frank. You've got some clout right now."

"Why does it take clout to get Nancy an offer that isn't a slap in the face?"

"She's young."

"She's the same age as me."

"She's inexperienced."

"She's been working as an investigator since she was a teen, just like me."

"She only has an undergrad."

"She has two years of practical experience under her belt, while I've been submerged in academia. Sorry, Dan, but you're going to have to do way better than that."

Jarvi sat back and crossed his arms. "I'm going to level with you, Frank. Between you, me and the wall, she's a woman. Despite progress at the Bureau, the fact remains that only twenty percent of special agents are women. Like most law enforcement agencies it's still a man's world. Most managers, like me, ignore the anatomy, but there are inherent biases that are intractable. She was made a decent offer that is pretty much on par with what most men in her position would have received, and I think that says a lot. But like any new recruit, she's got some proving to do. If the Bureau is the path you choose, that's a reality you are both going to have to come to grips with."

"I don't think _we_ have to come to grips with anything. It sounds like the Bureau does."

Frank stood and turned his back on the Special Agent. He knew Dan Jarvi wasn't the problem, but the whole thing smacked of chauvinism and it pissed him off. Nancy was every bit as good an investigator as he was, and other than 'the anatomy' he couldn't figure out why his offer was so much better than hers.

He heard Jarvi's chair slide back as he stood. "When did you want to leave for Chicago?"

Frank had been thinking about his mother's suggestion, and came to a decision. He turned to face the agent. "I think I'm going to try and get a flight tonight."

"I'll make the flight arrangements and be by with a couple agents to pick you up this evening." He handed Frank a prepaid tracfone. "I'll call you at that number with the details once everything is set. Let's try and keep this quiet. No talking about it on the land lines, or on your cell."

Frank shrugged acceptance. "I was thinking I might surprise Nan, anyway."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks so much to those who have reviewed. Those notes make me smile, and keep me writing! This will probably be the last update until next weekend. I have a couple more chapters written, but my pacing is off, and I'm trying to work on that. I hope this satisfies for a few days. I promise to post the next chapter by next weekend at the latest.

Also, please note that there will be some fairly strong sexual innuendo in the following chapters. I actually have some more explicit stuff, but I'm trying to keep this at a T rating ;).

As always, I own nothing, and make no money from this. Please, if you enjoy, leave a quick review and let me know - it makes a poor, unpaid author's day to get those lovely little notes :)

Happy Reading!

**Chapter 2: Close Call**

It took a few seconds for it to register that the guy on the steps was holding a camera with 'Channel 9 News emblazoned on its side.

That brought Nancy up short. Looking down, she found a microphone lying at her feet.

Shit.

She let the man go and took a step back as he righted himself.

Nancy pursed her lips. "I'm sorry. Are you ok?"

The reporter was all business. "Fine."

He turned to his cameraman, who was still rooted to his spot on the steps. "Did you get that?"

Relief washed through Nancy when she saw the cameraman shake his head 'no.'

"Do you think you could do it again, so we could get it on film?"

Nancy stared at the man. "What? I . . . no! Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"You _are_ Nancy Drew?"

"Yes."

"The Nancy Drew who helped topple the identity theft ring in New York last week?"

Nancy pressed her lips together into a thin line. So that was what this was about. She allowed her gaze to roam the street behind the reporter as she considered how to respond. With a flash of recognition, she locked eyes with a man watching the scene with interest from his seat in a car across the street. What was he doing here?

Her attention was jerked back to the reporter when he spoke again, "Were you not in New York last week, Ms. Drew?

She forced herself to focus on the man standing in front of her, and decided to answer his most recent question.

"Yes, I was in New York last week."

He held out his hand. "I'm Mitch Mitchel of New York's Channel 9 News Team. I traveled to Chicago to talk to you about the identity theft ring. It seems to me that you're being shafted with Frank Hardy taking all of the credit. I'm here to tell _your_ side of the story. I want to know the truth about what happened."

Nancy crossed her arms, and Mitchel's hand dropped to his side when he finally realized that she wasn't going to shake it.

She took a moment to allow the initial flash of anger to pass so that when she spoke, her voice was cool and even. "Frank Hardy is not _taking_ credit, you vultures are thrusting it on him. If you were so interested in the truth, you'd stop putting words in his mouth and listen to what he has to say. Now, get lost."

She started to close the door forcefully when the pizza delivery guy cleared his throat, spoiling the gesture. "Um, ma'am, your food?"

Nancy took the pizza and wings with a mumbled 'thank you' and shoved the money at him. "Keep the change."

"Ms. Drew, if you would just answer a few questions –" Mitchel took a step forward.

"I said get lost." The door made a satisfying thump as Nancy finally got to slam it in the reporter's face. She took the stairs two at a time. Back in her apartment she dumped the food on the coffee table in front of Bess and hurried to the window. Lifting the blinds she looked out to see Mitchel interviewing her pizza deliver boy.

"You have got to be kidding me," Nancy muttered.

She scanned the street, grateful that there were only a few people out and about, and all seemed to be intent on getting home. It would be just her luck that Mitchel would find one of her many elderly neighbors who was willing to talk about the young lady detective in 312 who was always in some sort of trouble.

Nancy's attention was again drawn to the man still sitting in a non-descript beige Jetta watching the activity near her front stoop. Phillip Colby. She had coordinated surveillance on Colby for her employer, Adam's Detective Agency (ADA), for the three weeks prior to her trip to New York. The surveillance had been part of a background check on Colby that his future father-in-law, David Whitney had hired ADA to complete.

Three weeks of observing well-to-do, handsome Phillip Colby as he and his socialite fiancé, Yvonne Whitney lived an ostentatious life of privilege and opulence while kowtowing to the local charities. Three weeks had been about all Nancy could stomach. When David had suddenly decided he was endlessly grateful to Phillip for taming his wild young daughter into a proper Chicago aristocrat and ADA's background check was cancelled, Nancy had been relieved. At the time she was sure the only place she'd be likely to see Phillip Colby or Yvonne Whitney again would be in the society pages of the Tribune.

Bess came to her side. "Who's that?"

Nancy started, thinking at first that Bess was asking about Colby. But then she followed her friend's gaze to Mitchel, who appeared to be wrapping up his interview with the pizza delivery guy.

She couldn't seem to help the mocking tone of her voice as she responded, "Mitch Mitchel of the New York Channel 9 News Team."

"He's kind of cute," Bess said.

Nancy rolled her eyes at her friend before peering out the window, again. Mitchel had spotted Colby sitting in his car, and started moving toward him. Colby saw him coming and suddenly took off down the street. Apparently he didn't want to talk to the reporter any more than Nancy did.

As Nancy watched Colby disappear, she wondered idly if three times was a charm. Their paths had crossed that many times in as many days, now. She tried unsuccessfully to shake the eerie feeling that nagged at her. She shared this residential neighborhood of tenements and brownstones with hundreds of people. He was probably here visiting one of them. But if so, why was he sitting right across the street from her apartment in a car that she was sure he would never be caught dead in?

Her attention was again refocused on Mitchel as he started stopping random people on the street, apparently looking for someone else to interview. Unsuccessful, he and his cameraman began to pack their things into a dark blue, unmarked panel van. She turned from the window in disgust.

She decided to broach an innocuous subject, hoping to head off the questions she could see burning in Bess' curious blue eyes.

"When is George supposed to be here?" George Fayne was the absent member of their girls' night trio, Bess' cousin, and Nancy's other best girlfriend.

Bess followed Nancy back to the couch. "She said she'd be here as soon as the gym closed, around nine. But you aren't going to distract me that easily, Nan. What happened with Mitch Mitchel?"

Nancy opened the pizza box, and stared at it. Deep dish pizza was her favorite, and this one oozed with cheese, but she had lost her appetite. She told Bess the entire story from when she opened the door to get the food. The only thing she left out was Phillip Colby. It seemed unrelated, and she was reluctant to substantiate her own paranoia by talking about it with Bess.

Bess tried valiantly not to laugh while Nancy was telling her story. But once Nancy was finished, Bess dissolved in hilarity.

After a minute, Bess managed to gasp out, "Just think what a great companion story that would have made to the hero piece we just watched on Frank. I can see it now, 'Nancy Drew single-handedly takes down news crew. Details at 11.'"

Nancy snorted. "Laugh it up, Marvin. I'm just glad the cameraman was sleeping on the job. I am going to have to warn Frank that his paparazzi have made it out to Chicago. He may change his mind about coming."

It would have been funny except that the thought of Frank not coming really depressed her. If he had been putting up with the likes of Mitchel, she could understand why he was tired of the attention. Unfortunately, it didn't look like coming to Chicago was going to provide him any relief from the press. She couldn't believe she had actually flirted with the idea of entering journalism, herself.

Bess was still laughing about the fiasco with Mitchel. She patted Nancy's leg. "Oh, I doubt Frank will change his mind about coming, Nan. The guy is so gone over you it isn't funny."

"You think?"

"No, I do not think. I know." Bess shook her head. "Don't tell me you've never noticed how Frank looks at you. Even when Callie was still in the picture, he couldn't hide his feelings. Honestly, it was a little painful watching the two of you together."

Bess picked up a gooey slice of pizza, strings of cheese trailing out of the box like tentacles, and Nancy decided that maybe she was hungry. Bess' amusement at what had happened had lightened her own mood considerably, and her certainty about Frank was encouraging. She was grateful that her friends were always there to help her avoid becoming too serious about everything.

She had been looking forward to the distraction that girl's night would provide. She and Bess were already in their pajamas, had an arsenal of movies to watch with pizza, wings, and beer . . . well, Bess preferred wine, but Nancy had bought a 12-pack for herself and George. It was the perfect evening to keep her mind _off_ of Frank's absence.

"So, the planets have finally aligned. What's it like to actually be dating Frank?"

Nancy sighed. Then again, maybe not. "Can we talk about something else, Bess?"

Bess turned wide blue eyes on her. "Come on, Nan. This is the first time I've gotten to really talk to you since you got back from New York. If I was dating Frank, I'd want to talk to absolutely everyone about it."

"It's not that I'm not happy about it, but I'd be happier if I was actually with him. We were together less than two days before I left New York, and we slept half the time. The other half we were surrounded by our families. We barely had any time alone, just the two of us."

"Barely, huh?" Bess looked at her narrowly for several seconds before a suggestive grin spread across her face. "That means you did manage to get at least a little bit of time alone. What is it like being more than just friends with Frank, Nan?"

The warmth in her cheeks quickly spread to the rest of her body as Nancy thought about the few hours she and Frank had managed to steal, while his mother herded everyone out to the movies and coffee. They had always had an amazing connection on an intellectual level, but the physical connection had been nothing short of extraordinary.

Bess giggled, and Nancy returned to her small, drafty efficiency with a start.

"That good, huh? Oh, girl, you _have_ to share."

"I didn't say anything." Nancy was dismayed that her voice sounded so breathless.

"You didn't have to, Nan. Now, share."

Nancy grunted in irritation. "Yes, it was that good. And no, I am _not_ going to share."

"Ah, come on, Nan, just a couple juicy details for your poor, single friend who hasn't had male companionship in oh, so long."

"Pick up a Harlequin, Bess."

*

Once the information about the rumored hit had traveled through his family, they descended like the fiercely protective people he knew and loved. Frank had spent the better part of the evening alternately explaining what was going on, and promising that he would be careful. It was a relief when Jarvi finally arrived around midnight to rescue him, bringing along the agents who would be accompanying him to Chicago.

"This is Special Agent Henry Rood." Jarvi indicated a compact, muscular man with blond hair that fell carelessly into intelligent gray eyes.

"It's nice to meet you," Rood murmured.

Frank shook the man's hand as Jarvi turned to the woman standing by Rood's side. She was petite, but powerfully-built, her long, brown hair pulled back in a loose bun. Dark eyes considered Frank with a blatantly appraising gaze. "And this is Special Agent Liesle Lion."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Hardy."

Frank took the offered hand, admiring the firm grip. "Mr. Hardy is my dad. I'm Frank. We're going to be spending a lot of time together, and I'd rather have things on a first-name basis. If that's ok with you?"

She smiled. "Sounds good to me. Ok with you, Hank?"

Rood hooked a thumb at his partner, his gaze teasing. "We call her the Lioness. But you can call her by her first name . . . if you dare."

"Feel free to call me Liesle, Frank. _You_ . . . " She pushed a finger into Rood's chest. "can call me ma'am."

Rood quirked an amused smile at Lion, and Jarvi laughed. "If you can't tell, Liesle outranks Hank – in every sense of the word."

"Hey, I resemble that remark." Rood feigned insult, but then he and Lion looked at each other and laughed, as if sharing a private joke.

Jarvi gazed at Frank intently. "What they say goes, Frank. I'd really appreciate it if both you and Nancy listened to the agents and did as they ask. We are trying to make sure you both stay safe."

Frank glanced over to where his parents stood watching the introductions. His mother raised an eyebrow at him, and he shook his head in resignation. "I've agreed to this whole thing, as long as we all remember that it _isn't_ protective custody. I did, however, promise Mom I would behave and be careful."

Liesle chuckled. "A man who respects his mother. Refreshing."

Frank heard Joe snort behind him. "Respect, hell. He's scared to death of her. We all are."

His mother's voice was quiet, but firm. "Joseph Hardy, not in front of guests."

"Sorry, Mom."

Frank was sure the amused smile on his father's face was a reflection of Joe's. They all knew better then to cross the woman of the house, but they also knew that she prided herself on that very fact.

"We'd better head out. The jet is waiting at JFK," Jarvi said.

Frank felt Joe's hand on his shoulder. "Have a good trip, bro. Van and I are catching a commercial flight in the morning, so we'll see you tomorrow. You and Nan can come visit us in our Jacuzzi suite at the Four Seasons."

"Jacuzzi suite at the Four Seasons?" Frank echoed incredulously. "How'd you swing that on such short notice?"

Joe shrugged, a smug smile on his face. "Compliments of Vanessa's boss. Gotta love her."

"Some people have all the luck," Frank said.

"And lately that hasn't included you, bro." Joe slapped him on the shoulder.

Mind firmly set on his destination and the beautiful young detective that he'd get to see there, Frank couldn't help but think he was pretty lucky. Still, he wasn't about to let the comment slide.

"Bite me, Joe."

"Franklin Hardy."

Frank sighed as he bent to pick up his bags. "Sorry, Mom."

Good byes were said all around. Outside, Frank stowed his bags in the trunk of the waiting sedan, and then climbed into the backseat with Rood.

Jarvi sat in the passenger's seat, and turned to look at Frank. "We might be able to swing a suite at the Four Seasons for a couple days. You just need to leverage your contacts, Frank."

"Can I stay there alone with Nancy?"

Jarvi chuckled, and turned back toward the front.

Frank took that as a 'no.'


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Well, I hope this is worth the wait. I have several more chapters drafted. I think I'm over the hump in the plotting, so it should come pretty regularly from here on out. Unless life gets in the way, which it does have a tendency to do as spring approaches.

Thanks to all the wonderful reviewers. I really appreciate the feedback and encouragement. Please keep them coming!

I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys (darn!).

Happy Reading!

**Chapter 3: Early Morning Confidence**

Laura rolled over and stretched out a hand, finding only an expanse of cold sheets where her husband should have been. She opened her eyes with a sigh, and slipped out of bed. Robed and slippered, she moved quietly down to his home office, where she knew she would find him.

She stopped in the doorway and watched him silently. Fenton Hardy could still make her heart skip, with his dark good looks, which he had passed on to their eldest son, and his easy smile, which he had passed on to their youngest. He was engrossed in something on his computer, his gaze fixed and serious, but his hands still.

"What are you doing out of bed in the middle of the night, Mr. Hardy?"

Dark eyes rose to meet hers, and she smiled as surprise was replace by warm affection on his handsome features. He motioned, and she joined him as he pushed back from the desk, patting his lap invitingly.

She sat down and gave him a light kiss, then asked again, "So, what's keeping you up tonight?"

It wasn't an unheard of occurrence. Fenton took his job seriously, and when a case was being particularly difficult, he would often be up at odd hours. He told her that it was during the quiet hours of the early morning when the greatest clarity came to him. But as far as she knew, there were no cases bothering him, so the early morning wakefulness wasn't related to that. She suspected that like her, he was worried about Frank. The fact that the FBI was concerned enough to follow him to Chicago was disturbing. He confirmed her thoughts a moment later.

"Frank. Who would have expected he would be the one that would keep us up nights, Laura? Joe has always been the impulsive, reckless one. But no, it's our steady, deliberate son that is throwing me for a loop."

"Frank will be fine. I have faith in that. I'm glad Daniel is taking precautions, but I keep hoping that his concerns are blown out of proportion."

"I hope so too. And as if that wasn't enough to worry about, I've been struggling to come to grips with the fact that Frank may not come back to the business." Fenton traced circles on her back with his finger tips, and was silent for several seconds before continuing, "I want him to do what makes him happy, Laura, but I have to admit that I'll be disappointed if he chooses the FBI over Hardy Investigators."

Laura sympathized. She wanted both her boys close, for what she recognized as purely selfish reasons. But she also knew Frank, and his priorities were rapidly shifting at the moment to encompass a certain young lady. "I know, dear. But, we will support him no matter what he chooses."

"Of course." Fenton cradled her against him, and she laid her head on his broad chest, listening to the comforting sound of his heart beat.

He took a deep breath, his tone resigned. "I just find myself in the awkward position of having to counter-offer my own son. To be honest, I'm not sure I have anything as attractive as the FBI to bid."

Sitting up, Laura smiled at him. "Oh, I think you can outbid the FBI, Fenton. But it has less to do with Frank, and more to do with Nancy."

"You're being rather cryptic, Laura."

"Well, I happened to overhear Frank talking with Daniel about the offers that the FBI made."

Fenton chuckled. "Eavesdropping, dear?"

Laura stiffened and she responded defensively, "It's my kitchen, and I have a right to know what goes on in it, particularly if it involves _my_ son."

"Did I say I was upset?"

She relaxed and smiled. "That's good, since I think Frank's displeasure over the offer the FBI made to Nancy could definitely weigh things in Hardy Investigator's favor when it comes time for them to make a decision regarding their careers."

"You talk about Nancy and Frank as if they're already married."

Laura waved a dismissive hand. "_That_ is only a matter of time. And if I was a betting woman, I would say not much. Frank has decided what he wants, and you and I both know how determined he can be once he makes up his mind."

Fenton smiled that smile that could make her weak in the knees.

"He reminds me of his mother in that respect."

*

Nancy woke with a start and turned to look at the clock on her bedside table. She lay back and closed her eyes, the red 4:45 still visible as if burned into her eyelids. Her cell rang, and she realized that the persistent buzz must have been what woke her. She groped for it on her side table, and held it in front of her eyes, squinting until the 'Unknown' caller identification came into focus. She grunted in irritation. No way was she answering a call from some stranger at this time of the morning.

She silenced the ringtone, and was about to roll over and go back to sleep, when a thought jerked her wide awake. Frank hadn't called last night. She had been concerned, but not terribly. It didn't hurt that by the time midnight rolled around and she realized that he hadn't called, she had already had several beers and a glass of wine. She snatched the phone back up. Perhaps she should have been more worried.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Nan." It _was_ Frank, but he wasn't calling from his cell. That alone, concerned her.

Her mounting anxiety pitched her voice higher than usual. "Frank! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Nan, really. I'm sorry to call this early."

She lay back and stared at the ceiling, her anxiety turning to irritation. "Where the hell have you been, Hardy? And why aren't you calling from your cell?"

"Well, at the moment I'm standing on your front stoop –"

She sat up. "In Chicago?"

"You have a stoop somewhere else?"

"Your smartass brother is wearing off on you."

She could hear the smile in his voice. "Are you going to let me in so I can explain the rest in person?"

She stumbled as she rushed to stand before fully disentangling herself from the blankets. "I'll buzz you in, just give me a sec."

She forgot that someone was sleeping on the floor. George yelped as she tripped over her friend traversing the short distance from her bedroom to the intercom by the apartment door. Frank's concerned voice sounded in her ear. "Nan, are you ok?"

"Yeah, I just stepped on George." She punched the buzzer while speaking into the phone. "Third floor, room 312."

"I know where you live, Drew. See you in a minute."

Nancy closed her cell and set it on the kitchen bar. George had extracted herself from the sleeping bag she had been sleeping in and was standing up. "What time is it?"

"Quarter to five," Nancy said.

Bess had risen off the couch, and groaned out loud. "Oh, you have to be kidding me. Who in the world is knocking on your door before five in the freaking morning? We just went to bed a couple hours ago."

"It's Frank."

George let out a bark of laughter. "No wonder you were in such a big hurry."

"We should get out of here, George," Bess said.

Nancy said, "Absolutely not. There is no reason for you to rush off just because Frank's here. Lie back down."

A light tap on the door heralded Frank's arrival, and Nancy swung around and jerked on the door handle impatiently. Her attention was immediately drawn not to Frank, but to the two people who stood behind him.

He must have seen the flash of worry on her face, because he put a hand on her arm. "It's ok, Nan. Meet Special Agents Liesle Lion and Hank Rood."

"FBI?"

Frank nodded. Nancy took a step back, opening the door wide.

"Please, come in."

Frank leaned down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, before walking into the main room. She was surprised at how a brief, almost-brotherly kiss could set her heart racing. She took a deep breath before shaking hands with the agents as they followed him in.

She closed the door and turned as Frank stopped in the main room. His smile made Nancy feel warm, even though it wasn't directed at her. "Hey, George. Sorry to get you up so early."

George hugged him. "If we'd known you were coming, we probably would have just stayed awake."

Bess had come around the couch, and reached up to give him a peck on the cheek. "You are about the only person who could walk through that door this time of the morning that I would allow to live, Frank."

"Sorry, Bess."

Nancy's tiny apartment was definitely feeling crowded. She shut the door and slipped past the two agents. "Um, Bess, George, meet Special Agents Liesle Lion and Hank Rood of the FBI."

Bess and George both murmured greetings.

Nancy turned an appraising eye on Frank. He looked tired, and rumpled, but that was to be expected from someone who had traveled overnight. What bothered her more was the fact that two FBI agents accompanied him. She touched his arm and asked, "Coffee or bed?"

"Both." His warm smile was directed at her this time, and it made Nancy's heart flutter. She glanced away, overcome by a sudden nervousness, and came face to face with the two agents standing in her living room. They proved the perfect distraction. "Would either of you like coffee?"

Special Agent Lion nodded. "I'd take some. Hank?" Her partner nodded silently. She turned back to Nancy. "Ms. Drew, do you mind if we take a look around?"

"Please, call me Nancy. And no, I don't mind at all, but there's not a lot to see."

"Thank you."

Lion nodded to Rood, who headed back out the door, while Lion began a careful circuit of the tiny apartment.

*

Frank slipped an arm around Nancy's waist and guided her into the little galley kitchen. "I believe I owe you an explanation. We can talk while we make coffee." George and Bess followed, obviously curious.

The kitchen was little more than a hallway lined with kitchen cabinets and small apartment-sized appliances. Bess shooed Nancy away and started making coffee.

Nancy looked up at him with worried blue eyes. "What's going on, Frank? Why do you have babysitters?"

He waved a dismissive hand. "It's no big deal, Nan. Jarvi said there are rumors that the East Coast Syndicate has put out a hit on me. Nothing concrete, just rumors. He wanted to put me under protective custody, but it seemed like overkill for something so vague."

Bess' mouth hung open. "There's a hit out on you, as in someone is trying to kill you?"

Frank raised a hand. "It's _just a rumor_. I think it's unlikely, but Jarvi seems to think it's credible."

"So why aren't you in protective custody?" George was staring at him. "If there are contract killers out there looking for you, it seems to me that you're taking a chance walking the streets, particularly in Chicago at this time of morning. Even if there are two FBI agents with you."

Frank was feeling outnumbered, and turned to Nancy. The reflective look on her face gave him hope. She stepped forward and took the coffee filter from Bess' stilled hand and finished making the coffee.

Frank, George, and Bess all watched silently, waiting for Nancy to speak, as if it would end some major impasse. Frank would have laughed, but he was kind of worried about what she would say.

She slammed the coffee maker shut, and punched the button to start the brew cycle. When she turned to look at him, her face still held no clue to what she was thinking. He was just about to open his mouth and argue his point some more when she finally spoke.

"Protective custody for an undefined threat with no end in sight. That would have sucked."

He nodded triumphantly. "Exactly."

Bess and George gaped at their friend.

"Are you saying you agree with his decision?" Bess asked.

"I understand it," Nancy said.

"I knew you would get it, Nan." Frank was relieved.

"I said I understand, not that I agree."

So maybe the relief was a little premature. He tilted his head and locked eyes with her. "Come on, Nan. You would have made the same call."

She turned to face him. "Don't 'come on, Nan' me, Hardy. You are, after all, the one who took down the biggest identity theft scheme in recent history. The East Coast Syndicate is bound to be pissed about that."

Her tone was teasing, but there was a definite hard edge to it. He took comfort in the slight lift to the corners of her mouth – her very kissable mouth. Damn, he had missed her.

She moved closer to him, and poked a finger into his chest. "I can live with the no protective custody decision. But don't do anything stupid, Hardy, or the ire of the East Coast Syndicate will pale in comparison to mine."

Frank caught the hand on his chest in his own, and snaked his other arm around her waist, pulling her close. "I'm frightened."

Eyebrows arched above beautiful blue eyes. "You should be."

He leaned closer to her. "I missed you."

"Dammit, Hardy."

She tried to look severe, which made him smile. He let his lips brush her cheek, breathing in the scent of her. She resisted for a moment, but then melted against him, turning her head so that there lips met. The kiss quickly deepened, and neither of them noticed Bess and George exit the kitchen.

Frank lost himself in the kiss. This was what he had been anticipating for the last six days. He nearly groaned out loud when Liesle cleared her throat. He and Nancy broke apart. He looked up as Nancy turned, both of them looking at the agent, who leaned on the bar between the kitchen and the living area.

"Sorry to interrupt. I just had a question. Was your bedroom window leading to the fire escape broken recently?"

Nancy nodded. "Just the end of last week, as a matter of fact. The police think it was just a random break-in. They took my jewelry, but nothing else of any value. It took me a couple days to clean up all the broken glass."

Frank knew Nancy had been more upset about losing her mother's jewelry, than about the actual break-in. He snaked an arm around her, resting a hand on her stomach. He was feeling protective, and the next words left his mouth before he had a chance to censor them. "It wouldn't have happened if you lived in a better neighborhood."

This time there was no teasing glint in the blue eyes that turned on him. Nancy crossed her arms as she pulled away. "What was that?"

He held up his hands. "Sorry, I . . . I'm just saying you'd be safer in another neighborhood."

"Thin ice, Hardy."

"I said I'm sorry," he said.

Liesle's chuckle eased the tension somewhat. "Actually, for Chicago, this isn't such a bad neighborhood. However, the fire escape is a problem. It makes the apartment, in particular the bedroom, marginal from a defensive standpoint."

Nancy frowned. "That fire escape is why I chose this apartment. It's nice to have a hidden exit that doesn't involve crawling out on a ledge. I've used it more than once."

Frank shook his head. Nancy Drew was the only woman he knew who would say something like that. It was part of what he loved about her.

"I would have selected it, too," Liesle said.

Frank smirked, make that one of two women he knew. He liked Liesle and Hank more and more as he got to know them. The two agents shared an easy, natural camaraderie that he found comfortingly familiar.

Nancy's tone was curious. "But not for this?"

"Your criteria for selection all depends on your purposes. For our purposes, this apartment is definitely not ideal." Liesle sounded almost like an instructor.

"What does that mean?" Nancy asked.

"It means we call Jarvi and find out what he's been able to line up as our backup location. You might want to pack a bag."

Nancy raised her eyebrows. "I'm going, too?"

Frank shook his head as he realized what the agent was driving at. "Hang on. This is _not_ protective custody, remember? I'm not going anywhere, except to bed - here."

"This move is for your safety, Frank." Liesle considered him for a moment, and then turned to Nancy, obviously hoping for support.

When Nancy looked at him, he could tell she was ready to argue. He held up a hand to head her off. "I'm not even going to let you open your mouth, Drew. I know how you hate hypocrisy."

Her jaw clenched as she ground her teeth but she remained silent. He nodded in acceptance of her unspoken capitulation and walked out of the kitchen and toward the bedroom.

Behind him, he heard Nancy admit, albeit grudgingly. "I deserved that."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks ever so much to all of my reviewers. I've responded to all the signed reviews, and really appreciate those who take the time to encourage me after reading each chapter! It means a lot to me to receive the feedback. Thanks, also, to those who have put my story on alert – I take that as an indication that you're enjoying it, even if you're too shy to leave a signed review!

This chapter contains some strong sexual innuendo. Nothing explicit, but it's there. I may try my hand at something M rated between Nancy and Frank if there's interest, but it will be posted outside of the story. Let me know what you think . . .

I hope to be able to post again mid-week, but no promises. Work is hectic, and spring is around the corner here in northeast Ohio, as we try to get our Market ready for plant season. Such is life. Since I make no money from the writing thing, (Nope, don't own any of the characters you recognize ;) I must keep up with the work that pays the bills!

_**Happy Reading! And don't forget to review, please!**_

**Chapter 4: Who Needs Protection**

Nancy had forgotten Bess and George were there until they were standing in front of her, shoes and coats on over their pajamas.

"We're going to head out, Nan," George said.

"Yeah, Nan. Six adults in this tiny apartment are four too many," Bess said.

George gave her a hug. "Have a good time with Frank, Nan."

"Give us a call later." Bess added.

"I'm sorry, guys." Nancy felt terrible that her friends were being chased away at this time of the morning, but she couldn't blame them for wanting to escape. If it hadn't been for Frank's presence, she might be tempted to run away herself. They exchanged goodbyes, and she locked the door behind them.

Rood had returned from his recon at some point, and he and Lion stood in the living room, heads almost touching as they conferred. To Nancy the pose appeared almost intimate. They spoke too softly for her to make out more than a word here or there. She walked to the living room window out of habit and looked down toward the front door. She waited for Bess and George to walk out to a waiting cab that they must have called earlier.

As they drove off, Nancy's eyes were drawn to the now familiar beige Jetta. It sat in almost the same place it had earlier, but she didn't see Colby in the vehicle anymore. She took that as a sign that it was as she suspected and he was visiting someone in the neighborhood. She scanned the remainder of the visible part of the street, and noted the blue panel van. Mitchel was still here, too.

She turned back to find Lion closing and locking the door behind Rood. "Where is he going?"

"He's going to do another quick sweep around the building and then watch from the street. He wants to check a panel van he saw on the street, and apparently there's a guy sleeping in his car down there. Probably harmless, but we don't want to take any chances."

"The guy sleeping in his car . . . he isn't in the beige Jetta across the street, is he?"

"I believe so. Why? Do you know him?"

"Kind of," Nancy said distractedly as she walked back to the window and looked down. Rood was knocking on the window of the Jetta. From her angle, she couldn't see Colby until he sat forward to roll his window down. Apparently, Rood told him to move along, because a minute later he was pulling away from the curb.

She jumped when Lion spoke from right behind her. "Who is he?"

"Phillip Colby."

"Should that name mean something to me?"

Nancy turned from the window as Colby's car disappeared from sight. "Probably not. He's engaged to Yvonne Whitney, David Whitney's daughter."

"David Whitney of international conglomerate, Whitney Enterprises?"

"That's the one. Anyway, I seriously doubt he has anything to do with a hit on Frank."

"Why would he be sleeping in his car in this neighborhood?" Lion asked.

"I'm wondering that myself," Nancy muttered, more to herself then in response to the agent. She nodded to the panel van, where Rood was heading next. "The blue panel van belongs to the Channel 9 News Team out of New York. Mitch Mitchel paid me a visit yesterday evening, and is apparently still hanging around hoping for a story."

Lion raised an eyebrow at her. "Mitchel, huh? What did he want?"

Nancy decided she might as well share the story. Lion doubled over in laughter. "Well, Hank will get rid of him for tonight, but from what I've heard of the guy, I'd bet he'll be back. He's persistent."

"Great." She took a deep breath, and decided to broach the subject she really wanted to discuss. "How much credence do you think there is to this threat to Frank, anyway?"

Lion shrugged. "Like you said, the East Coast Syndicate is bound to be pissed about the recent busts that came out of the identity theft ring. There's enough credibility to warrant being careful, at least."

Nancy wondered how much of the conversation in the kitchen the agent had overheard. Then she considered the size of her apartment and decided Lion had probably heard the whole thing. There was going to be precious little privacy in such close quarters with four adults. At least Rood and Lion both seemed nice enough.

"Do _you_ think Frank should go into protective custody?"

Lion's smile was sympathetic. "I don't know that what I think really matters. I will say that I don't blame Frank for the choice he's making. In the end, it is his choice."

While it seemed like an odd thing for an agent on protection detail to say, Nancy had to admit that she couldn't agree more, and she appreciated Lion's candor. She felt guilty for being glad that Frank had refused protective custody. She knew if U.S. Marshals had been involved instead of the FBI, and Frank was truly under protective custody, she wouldn't have even seen him. Yes, she was definitely being selfish.

She took a deep breath. "I agree. I'm just worried."

The agent put a hand on her shoulder and guided her toward the bedroom. "That's good, Nancy. It means you'll be careful. Now, why don't you go get some sleep? Hank and I will keep an eye on things."

"Thank you Special –"

"Liesle."

"Liesle. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Nancy walked into the bedroom and closed the door. Frank was already stretched out on the bed. He had taken off his shirt, but hadn't gotten any further. His eyes were closed, his breathing even. Nancy heaved a sighed of disappointment.

She jumped when he spoke. "What's wrong, Drew?"

"I thought you were asleep."

"Just resting my eyes until you decided to join me. Are Hank and Liesle all set?"

"Yes. And Bess and George have headed home."

She sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed. She was tired and worried. The relaxation of girls' night had evaporated in the last hour.

Frank sat up, placed one hand on the bed behind her and leaned in to kiss her shoulder. She looked up at him through a veil of hair.

"I'm sorry about this, Nan." He gathered the hair, and tucked it behind her ear.

"About what? You didn't ask for any of this."

"Well, at the moment, I'm _mostly_ sorry about the two FBI agents camped in your living room . . . and for the paper-thin walls of your apartment." His eyes were locked on hers, his smile suggestive.

Nancy shook her head and laughed. She straightened, reaching up to kiss his lips lightly. "Actually there is only one agent in my living room. Special Agent Rood is watching from the street. If I had to guess, he's likely keeping a close eye on that fire escape."

"Hm, perhaps the situation is more salvageable then I thought. We'll just have to be quiet."

Frank's husky voice and dark eyes sent a heat wave through Nancy. His hand slipped across her stomach to cup her hip as he leaned in and kissed her. She closed her eyes and gave in to the intense feelings that he awakened in every fiber of her being.

The respite of girls' night might be gone, but the kind of relaxation Frank offered promised to be even more enjoyable.

*

It was almost noon when Frank woke up and rolled toward the warmth lying in the bed next to him. He propped his head up on a hand, and just stared at her for awhile. Nancy's face was relaxed in sleep, her lips curved in a slight smile. He carefully moved a few straggling hairs out of her face, then let his fingers trail lightly down her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, and the smile became more pronounced as her gaze focused on him. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

He pulled back as she yawned and stretched; but complied happily when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a more satisfying kiss. He could have lingered here for the rest of the day, but the sound of voices in the living room and the smell of bacon cooking disrupted the intimacy of the moment. He sighed as he lifted his head.

"I think our keepers are making breakfast."

Nancy looked over at the clock, then back at him, her smile teasing. "Make that lunch, and they are _your_ keepers, Hardy. I suppose we should get out of bed and get dressed."

Frank collapsed onto his back. "I don't want to."

Nancy leaned up on his chest, her eyes dancing. "What _do_ you want to do, Frank?"

He took a deep breath and smiled at her warmly. "How about I show you?"

He tangled his hand in her hair while slipping the other under her hip to roll her on top of him. He caught her lips against his in a hungry kiss.

That was when the knock on the door sounded. Nancy's groan echoed his own as they rolled apart.

"I hate to interrupt." It was the muffled voice of Hank. "But Nancy's cell rang, and I noticed it was your brother, Frank. I thought you would want to know."

Frank sighed, and then called out, "Thanks, Hank."

Nancy was already standing, and his breath hitched just watching her walk to the closet. He could get used to seeing her every morning

She turned around, and smiled at him. He was struck again by how beautiful she was, as his entire body reacted to her.

"Wipe that lewd grin off your face and get dressed, Hardy."

He stood up and closed his eyes to block Nancy from sight, as he tried to conjure a picture of Aunt Gertrude to calm himself down. A moment later, Nancy's cool hands on his shoulders startled him out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes and looked down into her face, any progress toward calming down lost.

Her gaze was evocative. "Maybe we could take just a few more minutes."

He wrapped her in his arms. This was definitely how he wanted to spend the rest of his life waking up.

*

Given that Nancy's bathroom was across the hall from her bedroom, showering and dressing had proved interesting. Frank had come to the conclusion that, as nice as Liesle and Hank were, he wished they would disappear. They were definitely hampering his plans with Nancy.

He glanced up as Nancy walked into the room, fully dressed. She stopped in front of the dresser to retrieve her keys and a pocket knife, tucking them into the pockets of her Yale blue dress slacks. The fitted silk shirt in the same color hugged her slim figure perfectly. The muted color of the outfit set off the red highlights in her hair, and made her eyes really pop. He could have stared at her for hours.

She caught his gaze, and chuckled. She walked over to the window he was standing next to and opened the shades to let in the sunlight, and then turned to appraise him critically. He felt woefully under-dressed next to her, in his gray khakis and blue button down with no tie. He had packed his one good suit, but he wasn't about to wear it to go have lunch with his brother and soon-to-be-sister-in-law; even if lunch was at the ritzy Four Seasons.

"You clean up pretty good, Hardy."

"You look amazing, Drew. It makes me want to tear those clothes off of you."

She took a step closer and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I never would have taken you for the insatiable type, Frank."

"Only where you're concerned." That was disturbingly true. He'd never felt this way about anyone, even Callie. He felt a flash of guilt. Maybe he _was_ being greedy. Was she trying to drop a hint? "You know, Nan, we don't have to have sex every time I'm in the mood. I'm guessing I'm in the mood far more often than you are . . ."

Nancy put her hands on his shoulders, her face tilted up to smile at him. "Trust me, Hardy, if you ever make an unwanted advance you'll know it. You might be surprised at how often I'm in the mood, especially when you're around."

She stretched up, and he leaned down to meet her in a kiss. He wrapped his arms around her, and felt her fingers tangle in his hair. The feel of her body against him, the smell of her eucalyptus shampoo, the taste of her lips, the sound of her accelerating breath, all created a powerful sensory experience. One he couldn't seem to get enough of.

His disappointment was intense when she pulled back and took a ragged breath. "I think we better table this discussion until after lunch, Frank."

He let her go reluctantly. She squeezed his hand as she turned, but something must have caught her eye out the window. Her face paled, eyes tightening.

"What's wrong, Nan?" Frank turned toward the window and scanned what he could see of the street scene outside the building.

Just down the block, the side of a blue panel van opened and he grunted. "Is that Mitch Mitchel? What's he doing in Chicago?"

Nancy looked up at him. "Do you know him?"

"He's like the Maury Povich of New York newscasting. Channel 9 picked him up recently, but I think that's probably just because they're at the bottom of the ratings pool, and they figured a sensationalist like Mitchel would be a draw."

Nancy's smile looked sickly. "Great."

"Did Mitchel come here to talk to you?"

Frank could hear the anger in his voice, and apparently Nancy did, too. Her reaction surprised him.

She started to chuckle. "There's actually a funny story there."

She proceeded to tell him about what had happened the night before, and he was almost in tears he was laughing so hard when she told him about her greeting for Mitchel. But he sobered quickly as she continued.

"So this Phillip Colby character was outside your apartment last night?"

"Yes. And I just saw him, again."

Frank leaned on the window sill, and looked up and down the street. "Is he still out there? What does he look like?"

"He's gone. Phillip Colby is kind of hard to miss. He's tall, a little taller than you, with wavy blond hair, china blue eyes, and angular features. He's almost too good looking to be real."

"You know, if I didn't know better, I might be jealous."

Nancy shook her head and crossed her arms. "Haha, Hardy. The guy is really starting to creep me out. Just now, I'd swear he waited until I saw him, and _then_ he took off down the street."

"Do you think he saw you during surveillance?"

"I was on detail probably more than anyone else, since I had to cover call offs. I suppose it's possible."

"Maybe he's stalking you."

"He is engaged to Yvonne Whitney, who is gorgeous _and_ rich. I seriously doubt Phillip Colby would chance screwing that up by stalking me."

"You know, you are really clueless about just how attractive you are."

Nancy waved off the compliment. "You're just infatuated. I think maybe I'll stop by the office. Matt was going to be working this weekend. Maybe he can shed some light on Phillip Colby. He was running the electronic portion of the background check. I'm curious what he was able to find out. I could meet up with you at the Four Seasons when I'm done."

Frank shook his head, chuckling. "If you think you're going to the office alone, think again, Drew. I'm going with you."

"Along with your entourage? Come on, Frank."

"You're stuck with the whole freaking parade, Nan. What if Colby tried something?"

Nancy crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at him. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Hardy. You're the one that needs babysitters."

"Low blow, Drew. And I'm still going with you."

He smiled at Nancy's resigned grunt. "Fine. We better get moving. Joe's not going to be happy if we keep him waiting for his food, again."

Frank smirked. "Yeah, poor baby. He'll just waste away to nothing."

Nancy grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. "Let's go. We can call Joe on the way and let him know we might be a little late."

Frank grimaced. "He's going to be oh, so happy about that."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N on revision: Ok, I found a few too many typos to live with, and then I made a minor change to the discussion about Joe. I must have made some other changes too - but don't recall what they were. Nothing you can't live without if you've already read the chapter . . . I edit obsessively, so that's kind of the way it goes!

A/N: I really appreciate all of the great reviews, as well as those too shy to review, but who put my story on alert or fav – it really makes the writing worthwhile!

I'm hoping the plot isn't getting too convoluted – just warning you that there are going to be a few twists and turns. If you see anything that is inconsistent, please let me know!

I don't own any of the characters you recognize, yada, yada, yada ….

And please make a poor author happy and review, Thanks and Happy Reading!!

**Chapter 5: Adam's Detective Agency**

"I'm calling Joe on speaker. That way you can back me up when he starts grousing," Frank said.

They were in the car, on their way to the ADA offices; Nancy and Frank in the back seat, Liesle in the passenger seat, and Hank driving.

Nancy laughed. "Chicken."

Frank's gaze was bland. "On the contrary. It's a rule that you never go in without backup."

On their end, the phone didn't even ring before Joe picked up.

"Where the hell are you?"

Frank shot Nancy an 'I-told-you-so' look.

In the background they could hear Vanessa, "Joe, we aren't even ready, yet. Why do you have to give them such a hard time?"

"Yeah, Joe. Why do you have to give us such a hard time?" Frank asked.

"Just wait, Van. You're calling to tell us you're going to be late."

Frank grimaced. "Well, yes, but there's a good reason –"

"I told you, Vanessa. Late. We already held off lunch until two because they were sleeping in. Now we have to wait longer. And I'm the rude one."

"Suck it up, little brother. Nan needs to stop by the office. We'll be there as soon as we're done."

"And whatever she says, goes, isn't that right, Nancy?"

Joe's tone seemed overly spiteful, and Nancy cringed. "I'm sorry, Joe. Matt's only in until he's done with the backup, and I don't want to miss him. We'll be there as soon as we can. We may not even be that late."

"Fine. Not like it matters what I think or say, anyway." Joe hung up without saying goodbye.

Frank flipped the phone shut and handed it back to Nancy who tucked it into her pants pocket.

"Sorry about that, Nan. His stomach must be taking over his brain."

"Sounded more like I did something to piss him off . . ." Nancy felt a little shell-shocked. Joe had often put on the mad act to tease in the past, but he sounded like he was really upset – at her. She shook it off and looked at Frank. "Why are Joe and Vanessa in Chicago, anyway?"

"Van needed a break from wedding planning. The whole thing is turning into a huge production, and she's stressed. Joe said he knew she needed a vacation when she started broaching the subject of eloping. Vanessa's boss offered them her discount at the Four Seasons, and they decided to make the most of it and play tourist in Chicago for a get-away."

"Doesn't sound like they planned on contacting me while they were in town."

Frank dropped an arm around her shoulders. "Let it go, Nan. Joe will be fine. He just needs food."

Nancy let her head roll on Frank's shoulder, and fell into a sullen, thoughtful silence for the rest of the ride.

They arrived at the office a little after one. ADA occupied the rear half of the ground floor of the office building. Hank pulled up parallel to a parked car and let Frank, Liesle and Nancy out.

"I'll circle the block until I find a parking spot, or you're done, whichever comes first." He raised a hand as he pulled away.

Inside, Nancy slid her access card through the slot and pushed into the compact office suite. A ding accompanied their entry, and Riley Adams' voice reached them before the door had closed.

"It's Saturday, Drew, or didn't you get the memo?"

A moment later, an imposing man, 6'6" with broad shoulders, sporting a full head of steel gray hair over matching eyes was turning the corner around the cubes.

He stopped short and smiled, a scar on his cheek making it look almost like a grimace. "Well, hello. Sorry, I didn't know we were going to have guests, or I would have rolled out the red carpet."

Nancy opened her mouth to start introductions, but Riley held up a hand.

"Uh, uh, uh, allow me to take a WAG here." Riley held a hand out to Frank with a broad smile. "_You_ are Frank Hardy. Riley Adams, at your service."

"It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Adams," Frank said.

"Riley, please." He turned and held out a hand to Liesle. "I'm afraid it's just a parlor trick, and I haven't a clue who you are, miss."

"Special Agent Liesle Lion, FBI. It's nice to meet you, Riley." Liesle took the offered hand.

Turning to Nancy, Riley smiled. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure? I thought you were taking the weekend off."

Nancy was surprised that Riley had skipped the ribbing about Frank. She thought for sure she'd be in for it when Riley realized who he was.

"I just stopped by to check on a couple things."

Riley crossed his arms, gaze narrowing. "What things? You don't have an active case right now."

Nancy hesitated. "I just wanted to check on a case Matt was working."

"Well, you're in luck, he's still here finishing the system backup. I want you to stop by my office before you leave, though, please."

"Ok. Thanks, Riley."

Nancy led the way through the maze of cubicles to an office on the other side of the suite. Inside the glassed room, they could see a young man slouched down watching a computer screen.

Nancy opened the door, and reached down to tug on a dishwater blond pony tail. "Hey, Matt."

"Nan!" Matt tugged on the wires leading to his ear buds, so they popped out. Wide, intelligent brown eyes gazed at her fondly from behind black-rimmed glasses. "What are you doing here?"

She returned the smile. "I work here, remember? Matt Crane, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, Frank Hardy, and this is Special Agent Liesle Lion of the FBI."

Matt took Frank's hand. "Hey, I saw you on the news last night. That reporter was hot, man, and she looked like she wanted your number."

Frank's eyebrows furrowed, and Nancy laughed. "Frank is kind of oblivious to those things, Matt."

"I'm not oblivious, just not interested," Frank said.

"Yeah, guess I wouldn't be if I was you, either." He turned to Nancy, eyebrows raised suggestively. "So, what's up?"

She pulled a chair forward, and sat down. "I was hoping you'd share what you were able to dig up on Phillip Colby."

Matt tipped his head to the side. "Phillip Colby, the dude who's engaged to Whitney's daughter, right?"

Nancy nodded, and Matt turned to a computer, and started tapping on the keyboard. Nancy felt Frank lean on her chair, bringing his face level with hers. A glance told her his attention was fixed on the screen. Frank had slipped from boyfriend mode into investigator mode, and she found herself a bit disappointed. Matt pulled up a document, with a search history, which he scrolled through slowly.

Nancy could hear Frank murmuring as he skimmed and she chuckled. "Patience, Hardy."

Frank's breath caressed her cheek. "I think I've demonstrated I can be very patient, Drew."

Nancy gave an involuntary shiver. Frank shifted to a crouching position next to her chair and brought his hand to rest on hers. He kissed her briefly on the cheek before returning his attention to the computer screen. Maybe he wasn't as into investigator mode as she thought.

"Wait." Frank leaned forward.

Matt stopped and scrolled back, slowly.

Frank pointed. "There. What's this flag at Interpol?"

"It was a dead end. The Greek government put a flag out on a Phillip Colby that was suspected of stealing money from some well-to-do widow on holiday on Mykonos. There was no follow-up, though, because the charges were dropped. The record just hadn't been purged."

"Was our Phillip Colby in Greece at the time?" Frank asked.

"I don't know. He was traveling all around Europe, the Mediterranean, and the Mideast so I suppose it's possible."

"Do you have his travel itinerary?"

"He'd been traveling overseas for several years. I have all of the travel points that were recorded electronically." Matt opened another file. "Unfortunately, he didn't do a lot of commercial travel. He did more hitching and hiking."

"Why would he be hitching? I thought he had money?" Nancy said. "Hadn't his parents both died in Turkey or something and left him a huge inheritance?"

"Well, he does have money." Matt opened yet another file. "He has a Swiss bank account which has climbed steadily for several years. It didn't look like a huge inheritance, but more like he was receiving an allowance from a trust fund on some regular basis. The money was one of the mysteries I was trying to track down."

"Go back to the travel itinerary, please," Nancy said.

Matt clicked on the window with the itinerary to pull it to the front.

Nancy pointed at the screen. "See here, he flew into Palermo, Italy in August. Then in January he caught a flight out of Damascus. Couldn't that put him in Greece in the time frame that the complaint occurred?"

"I suppose, but it's a pretty big window." Matt sounded dubious.

"You're grasping, Nan." Frank squeezed her hand, and then looked at Matt. "What about credit card charges?"

Matt shook his head. "He must have used cash. I didn't find a single credit card charge."

"That's a heck of a lot of cash to carry around. He had to have left an electronic trail of withdrawals on his Swiss account at the very least," Frank said.

"Yeah, I thought so, too. But I wasn't able to find any evidence of routine money withdrawals. And the ones I did track were piddly."

"So where was he getting the money to finance his travel?" Frank's tone was ruminative.

"The deposits for his Swiss account, did they all come from a single location?" Nancy asked.

"No. They bounced all over the place. It almost looked like whoever was making the deposits was trying to hide their identity."

"Could you discern any pattern in the deposits?" Frank asked.

Matt took a deep breath. "To be honest, I was just starting to dig when the plug was pulled on the background check. So I stopped."

"Can you give me copies of what you did find, Matt?" Nancy asked.

"I don't see why not. I didn't even start trying to do any hacking, so everything I have is public record. I'll even give you the family background history I was able to pull together. You got your jump drive?"

"I think I have one in my office."

Nancy started to get up, but Frank stopped her. He stood and pulled a jump drive from his pocket. "Here, you can use this one."

Nancy raised an eyebrow at him. "You carry a jump drive in your pocket?"

"Always." Frank and Matt spoke at the same time, looked at each other, and laughed.

Nancy clucked her tongue. "I'm surrounded by computer geeks."

*

Frank was surprised at how quickly Nancy could move when she was irritated, and he knew she was irritated – at him.

"You couldn't just copy the files, you had to start talking to Matt about data mining techniques. I'm telling Joe that it is your fault we're so late."

Frank laughed it off. "Like that matters. Joe will blame me anyway."

"I'm not so sure about that. He was more than ready to blame me earlier," Nancy said.

She stopped in front of the open door to a corner office and poked her head in. "We're taking off, Riley."

Riley looked up and motioned them in. Nancy hesitated, but Frank walked in and sat down in front of Riley's desk. He heard Nancy heave a frustrated sigh, before coming to take a seat next to him. Liesle stayed in the doorway.

"Make it quick, Riley. We're late for our lunch date."

"Why are you so interested in Phillip Colby all of the sudden?" Riley fixed Nancy with an unwavering gaze.

Nancy pressed her lips into a thin, stubborn line. Frank nudged her. "Tell him."

Her glance was irritated, but she complied. "Since I got back from New York, I have seen Phillip Colby at least once per day, and I'm not even surveilling him anymore."

"And he's spent the last two days camped outside Nan's apartment," Frank added.

Riley sat back, fingers steepled in front of his face. "Why?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Nancy and Frank said in unison.

Riley considered them both for a solid minute before he spoke again. "Do you think I should contact David Whitney?"

"It's a little premature," Nancy said. "We don't even know what's going on yet."

"Well, I don't like the idea of that little prick following around one of my investigators."

"I don't like it either, Riley. For one thing, it means I got made on that surveillance, which really bugs me." She sat back and crossed her arms. "Regardless, it's not like he's doing anything illegal. There's not a whole lot we can do."

"Other than continue the background check and see if we can dig up some dirt on him," Frank said.

"We can run a secured check through our systems and see if we come up with anything," Liesle offered. "I have enough justification to request it, given that he was outside the apartment last night. I'll give Jarvi a call."

Liesle stepped out of the office.

Riley sat forward. "It makes me feel a little better, given that you have FBI agents following you around. Or are they following you?" He looked at Frank.

"It doesn't really make much difference," Frank said.

Riley smirked and turned to Nancy. "Just friends, huh?"

"Drop dead, Riley." Nancy stood up. "We really need to get going."

"Insubordinate comments aside, I want you to keep me informed about what you find out, Drew. I'll have Matt pick up where he left off. And since this always seems to warrant repeating where you're concerned, please be careful."

"I promise to be careful. And keep you informed."

"Then perhaps you can explain to me why you are not wearing your side arm."

"It's my weekend off, Riley. Liesle and Hank are both carrying. We'll be fine."

"Just don't ditch the agents, Drew."

"I won't. Besides, Hardy needs the protection."

Her smile was teasing, and Frank started as he realized he'd been brought into the conversation. "Hey!"

Riley chuckled. "You two kids go have fun – but don't forget to let me know if you learn anything of importance."

"Thanks, Riley." Nancy's gaze was almost affectionate, and Frank got the distinct impression that Riley felt the same about her. It was no wonder she had been so adamant about not leaving him.

Nancy was already started toward the door. "Come on, Frank, we better get going before Joe decides never to speak to me again."

"You worry too much, Nan," Frank said to her retreating back. As she disappeared into the hallway, he reached across the desk, and shook Riley's hand. "It was nice to meet you, Riley. It's good to know Nan has somebody watching out for her."

"I hate to see anything else happen to my star pupil before the wounds from the last cluster are fully healed. At least her face is finally losing that sickly green hue it had for a few days." Riley's gaze was calculating.

Frank tensed at the reminder of their close call of just a week ago. He thought he was going to lose her before he got to tell her how he felt. It was something he didn't plan to forget. Nancy would never be ignorant of his feelings for her ever again. "I don't want to see anything happen to her, either. But if you know Nan as well as I do, you know that nothing is going to keep her out of the game."

He held Riley's gaze steadily.

"No doubt, there." Riley chuckled, and then leaned forward, curious. "So, you ended up coming into town early. Are we still on for Thursday, or have your plans changed?"

"The early arrival had more to do with wanting to see Nancy and get out of New York, than anything else. Though, since you asked, would it be possible to move our appointment up to Monday or Tuesday, since I _am_ in town?"

Riley flipped through a leather-bound planner sitting on the corner of his desk. "Monday's suck. But I have time Tuesday. How about we have lunch?"

Frank nodded. "Sounds good. Thanks."

Nancy appeared at the door. "Are you coming, Hardy?"

"Right behind you."

"Don't let Riley bend your ear for too long. Hank double-parked right out front." She shot a warning glance at her boss, and then disappeared again. Outside Frank could hear her talking to Liesle about the background check on Colby.

"Have you told Nancy, yet?"

Frank pursed his lips and shook his head. "I just arrived early this morning. We haven't really had much time to talk."

Riley shook his head. "But you've had time to find a mystery to solve. You're two of a kind, aren't you?"

Frank grinned. "It's not the first time I've heard that. I'll see you Tuesday, Riley."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: As always, thanks to those who reviewed – I get so excited to receive those review notices in my email, it's kind of funny :D

I apologize for the brevity of this chapter. Hopefully I've done a better job of catching the typos this time (the last chapter is riddled – I'm editing, again, and will post a revision for my own sanity, please drop me a note and point out the ones you noticed – thanks!).

Usual disclaimers – I own nothing, make nothing.

And please review!

**Chapter 6: Nine Lives**

The Four Seasons was crawling with paparazzi when they arrived. A familiar blue panel van sat double-parked on the street.

Nancy groaned. "Mitchel is here."

"I don't like this at all." Liesle said. "Let's go around back, and find a less congested service entrance."

Frank's thumb stroked the back of Nancy's hand absently, as he examined the crowds in front of the hotel. "I wonder why they're here? Especially Mitchel. I mean, how would he know this was where you were coming?"

Nancy shrugged. "Maybe he's not here for me."

"I forgot you two slept through the morning news," Liesle said with a chuckle. "Phillip Colby and Yvonne Whitney eloped a couple days ago. They made the announcement early this morning, here at the Four Seasons. Apparently, her father is furious, and threatening to disinherit her."

Frank's jaw clenched. "Phillip's been a busy boy. Wonder where he found the time in his stalking schedule to get married?"

"He isn't stalking me," Nancy shook her head. Frank could get some weird ideas stuck in his head.

Hank glanced in the rearview mirror and caught Nancy's eye. "Sure seems possible to me. After I ran him off last night, he circled the block a couple times before leaving for good. He was back on your street late this morning, watching your bedroom window. The guy is kind of squirrely."

Pulling up near the loading dock entrance, Hank put the car in park and touched Liesle's hand. "This looks clear. You take them in and I'll park and meet you in the restaurant in ten minutes." He squeezed her hand and let go.

Nancy and Frank followed Liesle to the door, where Liesle showed her badge and they were allowed in. She ushered them through the lower working levels of the hotel, to a service elevator that took them to the lobby.

The lobby décor was stunning, with crystal chandeliers sparkling above a marble floor. An ornate table sat in the center with a huge fresh flower arrangement sitting on it. Nancy's attention was quickly distracted from the opulent surroundings, though.

Hotel security was everywhere, and appeared to be preoccupied keeping Yvonne's and Phillip's paparazzi at bay. Nancy overheard one of the security guards talking into an ear bud, his irritation obvious.

"Christ, why can't they just go to their suite until this dies down? Get another detail out front, and send someone to check the service entrances. They're bound to start showing up there. I'm going to talk to the Maitre de and see if he can convince them to lay low for awhile."

She followed the burly man's gaze to a sitting area in the lobby. She recognized Phillip Colby immediately, and seated next to him was Yvonne Whitney, her golden hair cascading in luxurious waves over her bare shoulders. She wore a strapless royal blue dress that was slit nearly up to her hip, revealing long, shapely legs. Phillip was dressed in a gray suit, with no tie, the top three buttons on his shirt open to reveal his muscular chest. He had one arm around Yvonne's waist, his other hand lying on her exposed knee. They were hardly dressed to be inconspicuous.

Their path across the lobby toward the Seasons Conservatory, where Vanessa and Joe were waiting, brought them within several feet of the couple. Phillip seemed totally absorbed in Yvonne, and vice versa. Neither noticed anyone around them until the hotel Maitre de approached. Phillip stood and moved away to greet him. Nancy found her gaze drawn to a locket around Yvonne's neck. She moved toward the young woman to get a closer look.

Frank took her arm. "Nan, what are you doing?"

Nancy shook him off, and walked straight up to Yvonne Whitney. "Excuse me, where did you get that necklace?"

Yvonne's hand flew to her neck, French-manicured fingernails touching an exquisite antique locket with delicate white gold filigree, and tiny blue sapphires. "It's beautiful, isn't it? It was a wedding gift from my husband."

"Phillip Colby gave you that necklace?" Nancy knew with certainty where Colby had gotten it. Her blood was pounding in her ears, and she knew her face was likely turning a lovely crimson color. She consciously regulated her breathing.

Yvonne stood, her gaze suddenly guarded. "Not that it's any business of yours, but yes."

Frank's hand stroked the small of Nancy's back, the touch grounding her and helping her to calm down marginally. "What is it, Nan?"

She could hear the tightness in her voice as she answered, "That's my mother's necklace." Frank tensed next to her, and Nancy could tell from the furious look on his face that he grasped the implication.

Yvonne smirked. "That's impossible."

"It was stolen from my apartment just a few nights ago. I would recognize it anywhere. There were pictures of my father and me as a baby in the locket. And there's an inscription –"

Yvonne had opened the locket while Nancy was talking and held it out triumphantly. "The pictures are of me and my husband. I told you it wasn't yours."

Nancy snatched at the locket. "That inscription, right there, proves it _is _mine."

"Get away from me!" The delicate chain broke as Yvonne pulled away from Nancy.

Nancy looked at her intently. "Look at the inscription. It says 'To El, my love & my life.' My father got that locket for my mother, Eliza, when I was born."

Phillip Colby approached. "What's wrong sweetheart?" he asked solicitously. He bent to kiss Yvonne on the cheek and cast a wary glance at Nancy.

"This woman claims that my new locket is hers."

Nancy clenched her hands into fists. "It _is_ mine."

Colby's jaw tightened, and he turned and looked at Nancy. "Really? Well, it caught my eye at a local pawn shop, so I suppose that's possible."

Nancy locked eyes with him. "It was my mother's."

"I imagine she would be upset to learn that you lost it," Phillip said, a slightly goading smile curving his lips.

"She's been dead for 20 years. That's why it's so important to me."

Nancy was stymied by the guilt and regret she thought she recognized in his gaze. It was fleeting, quickly hidden, but she was certain she saw it.

He gently extracted the locket from Yvonne's hand and turned to Nancy, holding it out. "I'm very sorry. Here, please, take it."

Phillip placed a finger against Yvonne's lips as she started to protest. "Hush, darling. The locket is obviously very special to this lovely young lady. I'll take you to the jewelry store and get you a replacement wedding gift – you can choose for yourself that way."

A radiant smile broke across Yvonne's face. "Of course, Phillip, you're right." She turned to Nancy, and gripped her hand. "I'm so sorry for the way I behaved. It's just all the attention has me a little on edge. I'm Yvonne Whitney . . ."

"Colby, darling," Phillip practically purred. "Yvonne Whitney-_Colby_. And I am Phillip Colby, this gorgeous woman's lucky new husband."

*

Frank took the offered hand warily. He was certain that Colby knew exactly who Nancy was, but he introduced himself. "Frank Hardy."

Colby's smile seemed tight. The guy was good-looking, but his eyes were definitely shaded – he was hiding something. "Frank, it's a pleasure meeting you. And who is this beautiful woman you're with?"

Frank moved closer to her. "Nancy Drew, meet Phillip Colby."

Nancy had schooled her features into a pleasant expression, though Frank could see the guardedness in her eyes.

She took Colby's hand and murmured, "Thank you for returning my locket."

"Hopefully all of the jewelry is returned soon." The man held Nancy's hand longer than necessary; a tactic Frank recognized immediately, having used it himself to prolong physical contact with her in the past.

Yvonne took Colby's arm in a possessive grip, forcing him to release Nancy's hand. Nancy tucked the locket into her pocket as she moved closer to Frank.

"I really am so very sorry about this unfortunate misunderstanding." Colby smiled at them. "Perhaps you would join us for lunch? The Maitre de has graciously offered to send a gourmet meal up to our suite, and it would be nice to have the company of another couple."

Frank had definite misgivings about the idea. "We're meeting friends for lunch in the Seasons Conservatory."

"They're welcome to join us," Colby offered graciously.

"Oh, yes, you must come," Yvonne gushed, having apparently decided that Nancy was not an enemy. "I feel just terrible about this."

"That's very kind of you," Nancy said. "We'd love to."

Frank looked down at her in surprise, but Colby didn't give him a chance to question her decision. "Wonderful. We're in the Presidential suite on the 46th floor. Please, collect your friends and join us. I'll let the Maitre de know that there will be six for lunch."

Frank glanced back. Hank had just joined Liesle, and both agents stood nearby, watching the exchange silently. "Better make that eight."

"Oh, I assumed they were your body guards. They can join the staff for lunch. The suite is quite secure, I assure you. We'll see you shortly."

As Colby guided Yvonne toward the elevator bank, Frank leaned down and whispered in Nancy's ear. "What do you think you're doing Drew?"

Nancy shrugged. "What better way to figure out what the hell Phillip Colby is up to than to spend some time with him? Let's go get Joe. I'm curious to see what Colby's next move is."

Frank ground his teeth. "Curiosity killed the cat, Drew."

Nancy's smile made his blood run decidedly cold, which was unusual. But the words that accompanied that smile chilled him to the bone.

"The cat had eight more lives."

"You promised Riley you would be careful."

"We're going to have lunch. All of us. What in the world could he possibly do? I am not about to pass up the opportunity to do some non-electronic data mining. Fill in some of those blanks that your computer searches can't." Her teasing smile did nothing to allay Frank's mounting anxiety about lunch. Goading Colby seemed risky at best.

Hank broke into their private argument. "What's going on?"

"We're going to the presidential suite for lunch," Nancy answered. "I assume the 'staff' has lunch up there, too. This should be fun. We'll get to watch lifestyles of the rich and famous from box seats. Let's go get your brother, Hardy."

Frank exchanged a worried look with Hank and Liesle. They didn't look enamored of the idea either. He caught up with Nancy and grabbed her arm. "Nan, please rethink this. If Colby is stalking you, this little luncheon could turn a distant peeping tom into a very real threat."

"I'm going to lunch with or without you, Frank."

Even more than her words, the determined set of her jaw told him that her mind was made up. He knew there was no point in arguing. He spied Joe and Vanessa, and guided Nancy past the seating hostess and toward their table.

Frank ground his teeth. "It's a damn good thing I admire that stubborn streak of yours, because times like this it's a real pain in my ass. Let's go get Joe and Van and get this over with."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Well, I am actually quite pleased, even with the less-then-complimentary review. I achieved the effect I was going for. So, consider this my birthday present to you :D and thanks for the reviews.

BTW, I kind of dislike unsigned reviews, because I can't interact with the person submitting the review, but am unwilling to disable them. If you choose to leave an unsigned review, that's ok, but I'd truly appreciate the chance to respond privately, because if there's a problem with the story I want to fix it (if it needs fixing), and often don't understand the issue that the reviewer has with the story. Accounts here on fanfic are free, and allow you to manage your reading, so it's well worth the few minutes it takes to set up an account, if you don't have one.

In this case, I think do understand the issue the reader has with the story, and I'm actually kind of glad about it (insert evil laugh here). Let's face it, somebody has to be in jeopardy, or the story would be awfully boring. In this case, though, your review indicates that you missed a subtle hint in the last chapter, and that's great. I'm keeping you on your toes. So this is your one and only warning, you better be reading closely, or you might miss something important!

Usual disclaimers . . . I hope you enjoy, and please review - it's what keeps a poor author smiling!

**Chapter 7: Twisted Lies and Obvious Truth**

Hostility rolled of Joe in waves as they approached. He sat slouched in the chair, arms crossed, expression brooding. Nancy couldn't help but think how much he resembled Frank in his current disposition. He stood as they approached, and Nancy noticed a drying stain that ran from Joe's shoulder down the front of his shirt. Maybe that, rather than she, was the source of his irritation. She hoped so, but his dark gaze made her doubt it.

Frank didn't give him a chance to say anything. "Don't start, Joe. I'm not in the mood. Grab your things. We're going to the presidential suite for lunch."

Nancy felt guilty knowing she was the source not only of Frank's sour mood, but apparently of Joe's as well. At this point, it didn't matter because she was determined to figure out what was up with Phillip Colby. She felt certain there was more to it then the stalking that Frank seemed so worried about. Colby was slick, but he had seemed truly sorry about the locket. She just couldn't pass up an opportunity like this, and was certain that if their positions were reversed, Frank wouldn't either.

"The presidential suite?" Joe asked, his anger obviously trumped by his curiosity. "Did you two win the lottery or something?"

"Or something," Frank said irritably.

Nancy turned a stern look on the older Hardy and spoke in a low, intense voice. "You would have done the same thing in my position so don't go getting all hairy about it, Hardy. How often do you get to be pampered with a private gourmet meal in the presidential suite of the Four Seasons, anyway? Just relax and enjoy it."

"Relax?" Frank's expression was incredulous. "I can't believe this. You promised Riley you'd be careful, and then you pull this little stunt. It's reckless."

Nancy crossed her arms. "Oh, for goodness sake, give it a rest. What could Colby possibly do with the staff and everyone else around? We've been over this already. _Let it go_."

Frank's jaw was tight, and Nancy could see the anger burning in his eyes. She realized with a jolt that they were having their first real fight, and it seemed so silly.

"For the record, Drew. I . . ."

"Don't like this." Nancy finished with him. His mouth clamped into a thin line.

"Uh-oh. Looks like we landed in the middle of a lover's quarrel, Van."

Joe's expression was enough to raise Nancy's hackles, again. She shot him an aggravated look. "Your little tantrum earlier certainly set the mood."

"Whoa," Joe said. "I'm not the one that showed up nearly an hour late to an already late _lunch. _We might as well call this dinner."

"Let's not get off-topic, here. Because, I'm still not happy about the new setting for our meal, no matter what you call it," Frank growled.

One step put Vanessa into the middle of the arguing trio. She spoke sharply, but quietly. "Alright, that's enough. Let's find somewhere private to talk. I think there are people here that are far too interested in what your three are saying."

Nancy looked up. Mitch Mitchel caught her eye and raised a hand in greeting. Across from him sat his cameraman, wearing a pair of sunglasses, and looking like he was nursing a hangover, though his face was angled directly at them.

She grimaced, and Frank nudged her. "What is it, Nan?"

"Van's right, Mitchel is sitting over there, and he's hanging on every word we say."

Frank searched the nearby tables and sighted the reporter. "How did he get past security?"

Joe's voice was terse as he answered, "He's from New York. Hotel security probably didn't recognize him as a press member. He showed up about half an hour ago. Dumped his drink all over me on his way to the table. I'd swear to God he did it on purpose."

"Sounds like you've had some dealings with him." Nancy said.

Joe's expression was bitter, but at least for the moment, the bitterness didn't seem to be directed at her as he said, "Yeah, the guy's a real douche. He totally blew a confrontation between me and a suspect out of proportion a couple months ago."

"Remind me to tell you what happened last night," Nancy said sympathetically, hoping to mend fences with the younger Hardy. Joe glared at her, his jaw tightening. Maybe not.

Vanessa gave them a push toward the exit. "Please, let's just get out of here."

Frank put a hand at the small of Nancy's back and motioned to Liesle and Hank. "Van's right. Let's get moving. We can talk in the elevator."

Thanks to Hank, they managed to get an elevator car to themselves. As soon as the doors closed, Joe started asking questions.

"So who are we joining for lunch?"

Nancy and Frank took turns relating the story, with Joe interjecting clarifying questions periodically. There were no further angry words, until near the end.

"So Phillip invited us to lunch," Nancy said.

"And Nancy decided to accept for all of us, despite the fact that it's _reckless_," Frank ended.

Joe frowned. "I don't know. It makes a lot of sense to me."

Nancy smiled at Frank smugly. "See."

"Yeah, my reckless brother agrees with you and you take it as validation. Just great."

"I agree with Frank. It's reckless." Vanessa turned a sympathetic smile on Nancy. "But I imagine it would be hard to pass up the opportunity. It's too late anyway."

Frank's expression was still tense. Nancy put a hand on his arm. "I promise I won't leave your side. Nothing can happen if we're together, right?"

Frank blew out a breath, his face relaxing marginally. "You aren't invincible, Nan. We stick together up here, and leave right after lunch. Under no circumstances do I want you alone with Colby. The guy is just way too fixated on you for my comfort."

Nancy smiled at him. "You worry too much, Frank."

*

At the entry to the suite, they were greeted by a maid. "Mr. and Mrs. Colby are waiting for you in the living room."

They were shown into the beautifully-decorated suite. The color scheme of the room seemed to have been selected specifically for the handsome couple lounging in it. Yvonne in her royal blue dress and Phillip in his matching button down shirt and gray dress slacks looked elegant and comfortable in the richly-appointed surroundings.

Phillip stood at the window overlooking Lake Michigan, the lake reflecting a deeper shade of the blue of his eyes. Yvonne lounged on the couch situated a few feet in front of the window. Phillip turned from the window as they entered and Yvonne rose gracefully from the couch.

Each held a drink, and Phillip raised his in greeting as he stepped around the couch toward them. "So glad you could join us. Would you care for a drink?"

"That would be great," Frank said, catching the surprised look that Nancy cast at him. "Phillip, Yvonne, I'd like you to meet my brother, Joe, and his fiancée, Vanessa."

Greetings and handshakes were exchanged, and Yvonne grasped Nancy's and Vanessa's arms and led them to the window where Phillip had been standing.

"Isn't the view just beautiful?" Yvonne asked. "I've been all over the world, and perhaps I'm biased, but Lake Michigan can be just as beautiful as the Mediterranean. Don't you think Phillip?"

"Of course you're right, darling." Phillip called, then turned to Frank and Joe. "What would you like to drink, gentlemen? The bar is fully stocked, and we also have sparkling water, iced tea, and various sodas."

Yvonne made small talk with Nancy and Vanessa, while Frank and Joe followed Phillip to the bar.

"What can I get you?" Phillip's smile seemed meant for both of them, but he was looking at Frank.

"I'll have scotch," Frank said.

"Just a Coke for me," Joe said.

Frank sighed at Joe's curious glance. He could see that Phillip was a drinker, and the only way to get him to let his guard down was going to be joining him, at least ostensibly.

Phillip put a glass with ice in front of Joe, followed quickly by a bottle of Coke, which he opened before setting it down. He had set his glass on the bar, and now put a clean one next to it for Frank. Turning, he grabbed a bottle of single malt scotch off the shelf behind the bar, and filled each glass with a couple fingers of the amber liquid.

"Would you like some spring water?"

"Sure, as a chaser," Frank said.

Phillip set out two more glasses and filled them from a bottle of Perrier. Frank shook his head. Lifestyles of the rich and famous incarnate. He should take Nancy's advice, at least in part. He might not be able to relax, but he could certainly enjoy.

Picking up his tumbler of scotch, Phillip held it out in a toast, leveling Frank with a calculating gaze.

"You and I have a lot in common, Frank," he said. "A love of fine liquor and a penchant for beautiful women. This is a red stripe Laphroaig 10 year old bottling. It is an excellent scotch."

Frank picked up his glass, the aroma of the scotch quickly engulfing him. He clinked the glass against Phillip's. "To the beautiful women in our lives," He offered in response, before taking a sip. The scotch was very good, and went down smoothly. Phillip joined him, and they each quickly emptied their drinks.

"That deserves a second toast," Phillip said with a smile, his guard slipping just a bit.

Frank set his glass down and returned the smile. "That is good scotch."

"Only the best," Phillip agreed. He added scotch to his and Frank's glasses, and then turned to Joe. "Are you sure you won't join us in a toast to our ladies, Joe?

Joe accepted a glass of scotch and joined the toast, though he only took a sip before setting the glass back down. "Not bad."

"Vanessa is quite lovely. How long have you been engaged?" Phillip asked, leaning casually on the bar.

"We've been engaged over a year. Our wedding is finally set, at least I hope, for September."

"Yvonne and I were engaged for only a few months. I'm afraid her father was anticipating the traditional wedding, but Yvonne was dreading it. She said it would just be a media circus. I would venture to say she was right, given the three-ring that has erupted since we announced our elopement."

Joe chuckled. "Van has been threatening to chuck everything she's done so far, and elope to Vegas. Her mother is going a little overboard with the wedding."

Frank fingered his empty glass. "I heard David Whitney was threatening to disinherit Yvonne. That seems rather extreme."

"Yes, well, trust the media to blow the dispute out of proportion. Yvonne and her father had words, yes. But David dotes on her. I'm confident it will all blow over. Yvonne's mother passed away when she was quite young, and her father is very devoted to his only daughter."

Frank's gaze wandered to Nancy. That could very well describe her and Carson Drew's relationship. He made a mental note to call on Mr. Drew later. They needed to talk.

Phillip's voice broke into his thoughts. "You are obviously very enamored of the lovely Ms. Drew, Frank. How long have you two been together?"

Frank hesitated, and then could have kicked himself for it, as Joe broke in. "My big brother has been in love with Nancy for a long time, even if he refused to admit it."

Frank avoided looking at either of them. He couldn't pinpoint an exact time when the friendship he shared with Nancy had morphed into something stronger. But Joe was right, it had been awhile ago.

"Old-fashioned love is rare these days. I think we are very lucky men," Phillip said.

Frank looked up and met his gaze. He seemed sincere, and when Colby glanced at Yvonne, Frank was sure he saw a reflection of what he, himself, felt toward Nancy. He was beginning to comprehend, why Nancy had insisted on coming up here. Something about Phillip Colby lulled you into trusting him. But Frank knew he was hiding something, and he suspected it was something big. The dichotomy was fascinating, and foreboding, and definitely not something that could be found through computer searches.

Yvonne appeared at Colby's side, and touched his arm. "Phillip, where are your manners? Our lady guests are still waiting for their drinks. Vanessa, Nancy and I would all like Riesling, dear."

"I'm sorry for being such a boar, darling." Phillip set to work, and a minute later had three glasses of wine sitting on the bar. He handed one to Yvonne and picked up the other two to follow her to the window, where Nancy and Vanessa still stood.

Joe leaned on the bar, his eyes following Phillip. He kept his voice low, meant only for Frank. "What do you think? There's something weird going on here, but for the life of me, I can't figure out what it is."

Frank shook his head, and followed his brother's gaze. Phillip handed Nancy and Vanessa each a wine glass, his hands brushing theirs solicitously. A casual touch here, a warm squeeze to an arm there; it was almost like the flirtatious thing was a habit, and not necessarily directed only at Nancy. But it had been Nancy's apartment he camped outside of. What was Colby's game?

Phillip moved away from the women and motioned to Frank and Joe. "Shall we retire to the dining room to await our meal? I heard the door, so I believe it has arrived."

They walked into the dining room and took seats around the table. Phillip sat at one end of the table, Yvonne at the other. Frank sat next to Phillip, Nancy beside him, and Joe across from him.

Frank poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher on the table. "So, Phillip, you said you found the locket at a pawn shop. Do you remember which one?"

Phillip seemed to be opening up while they were drinking, but it was like a shade being drawn when he looked at Frank to respond. "I'm sure I don't recall. It was hardly a memorable place."

"Do you recall what part of town you were in? Bucktown? Lincoln Park? Logan Square?" Phillip shook his head at each of Frank's prompts.

"I'm sorry, I really don't recall. I travel around Chicago quite regularly. Being an import, as it were, I find the city fascinating, but I'm afraid I really don't know my way around that well."

"Where are you from?" Nancy looked directly at Phillip, curious.

Phillip cleared his throat. "I was, uh, born in New Canaan, Connecticut, but my father was in international trade, and traveled extensively, often taking my mother and I with him."

Franks eyes narrowed. He couldn't be certain, but he suspected that was a lie. Phillip's voice had raised half a pitch, and his eyes shifted from Nancy's direct gaze.

"How did your parents take the news of your elopement?" Nancy asked.

"My parents have both passed away. They were killed in a traffic accident in the Mideast several years ago. I imagine that's what prompted my wanderlust. I spent several years traveling Europe, Asia and Africa. Even as far as China and Japan. It was a wonderful, free time of my life. But when I met Yvonne, I knew my wandering days were over."

The gaze he directed at Yvonne was that of a devoted new husband, but he had glanced down and to the left when he mentioned how his parents died.

Why bother to lie about that, Frank wondered.

Phillip motioned out the window. "Yvonne has reawakened my desire to be home in the States, and graciously agreed to share her life in Chicago with me. I am finding that I really like the city. It is definitely as lovely as anything along the Mediterranean, if not as exotic."

The smile Yvonne directed at Phillip was equally as devoted. "I can't think of anyone I would rather share my life with, dear."

From all appearances, Phillip and Yvonne were newlyweds very much in love with one another. But Phillip Colby was lying about his past, and Frank couldn't help but wonder why. And why was he so obsessed with Nancy that he broke into her apartment and stole her jewelry? No way was he buying the pawn shop story. Something screwy was going on, and Frank was hooked.

They had to ferret out the truth behind Phillip Colby.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thank you so much for the words of encouragement! I have to admit, I'm excited to find out what your thoughts are after you read this chapter . . . what you've noticed, and what maybe you've missed. That's the fun of mysteries, isn't it?

I should mention that any mistakes you find are all my own. I've been through this chapter so many times, I don't think I even really read it anymore. If you find anything glaring, let me know so I can fix it - thanks!

I don't own anyone you recognize. My only payment is when you click the review button at the end of the chapter. Please? Even if it's just to say :P

Happy reading!

**Chapter 8: Anger Management**

Phillip kept the remainder of the conversation during lunch steered toward innocuous subjects, brushing off any further questions about his background. Nancy thought that, alone, was telling.

Lunch was delicious, starting off with chilled gulf shrimp with cocktail sauce, followed by beef tenderloin with wild mushrooms, and ending with a sinful chocolate fudge layer cake. Nancy was stuffed, and despite her best efforts had to leave half of the cake on her plate.

When everyone was done eating, Phillip encompassed them all with a glance. "How about an after-dinner cocktail?"

It was Vanessa that stood and spoke for them. "I simply cannot eat or drink another thing, right now. Besides, we don't want to overstay our welcome, especially when you are supposed to be on your honeymoon. It was really lovely of you to share your hospitality with us. Thank you so much."

It took several minutes for them to say their goodbyes. Yvonne insisted on getting Nancy's phone number, and learning what room Joe and Vanessa were staying in.

"We really need to get together, again," Yvonne said, as they walked to the door.

Phillip had an arm draped around her shoulders, and gave her a squeeze. "What about that club opening your dad wanted us to attend?"

"Oh, I completely forgot about that. It's tonight. In fact, Daddy called earlier and asked if we were going to make it. I think he's almost forgiven us for eloping." She giggled.

Phillip turned to them. "It's a new jazz club right here in Uptown. David invested in the club, and wants us to be there for the opening, apparently tonight. It would be great if you could come."

"Yes, it would be wonderful if you would join us," Yvonne enthused. "I'll have the limo pick us all up out front at nine tonight. We can meet in the lobby. It promises to be a great time. NuBlu is going to be playing, and Daddy has one of the private rooms reserved. They've set it up like the exclusive cocktail clubs, but with a twist, and it's done all in vintage Hollywood décor. I can't wait to see it."

Nancy ground her teeth. Frank would never go for it. She was surprised when a moment later it was Frank who said, "Sounds like a good time. Do you guys want to go?"

They left with promises of meeting Phillip and Yvonne in the lobby at nine that evening. Hank and Liesle were waiting for them in the hall as the door closed behind them.

Liesle raised an eyebrow. "So, how did lunch go?"

Frank shrugged. "Pretty uneventful. Did they feed you two, or should we have asked for doggy bags?"

"Our lunch was very good, thanks for asking," Hank said. "The staff really seems to like the new Mr. and Mrs. To a person, they had nothing but good things to say about both Yvonne and Phillip."

"That's probably a good thing, since we're going out to a club opening with them tonight," Frank said.

"You're what?" Liesle shook her head. "You aren't exactly making our job easy, Frank."

On the elevator, Nancy slipped her hand into Frank's, and looked up at him. "What changed your mind?"

"There is definitely something strange going on with Phillip. And you're right, it's not something we're likely to figure out with electronic data mining, alone."

Joe snorted. "I can't believe it. Frank found something he can't figure out with a computer."

"Stuff it, Joe."

"I really like them," Vanessa said. "Both of them. Even Phillip, though the whole stocking thing still really freaks me out. I had to keep reminding myself that we were there to get something on him. He seems like such a nice guy."

"He was definitely lying, though," Joe said. "He tried to hide it, but he has a Jersey accent under those flowery words. No way is he from New Canaan."

The elevator slid open and Joe and Vanessa led the way onto the 44th floor, and to their deluxe suite.

"I agree," Nancy said. "And that story about his parents was BS too. Why bother lying about that? I really don't get it."

"What I don't understand is why he broke into your apartment and stole your jewelry," Frank said thoughtfully. "And then to give the locket to Yvonne – that was pretty bold. Though, the pawn shop story would probably get him off, particularly given who his father-in-law is."

"It's funny to hear you guys talk. Phillip and Yvonne seem like such a nice, newlywed couple, totally smitten with each other. But I suppose things aren't always what they seem . . . or would that be whom they seem?" Vanessa pursed her lips in thought.

Joe shrugged. "Guess we'll just have to keep digging." He looked pointedly at Frank. To Nancy, it seemed that Joe was definitely giving her the cold shoulder.

"Are you staying with us at the suite until time to leave for the club opening? The entertainment center is killer." Joe waggled his eyebrows.

"Does the suite have internet?" Frank asked.

"I thought this wasn't something we could figure out with a computer," Joe said.

"Not entirely. But I still want to take a look at the files that Matt gave us and maybe do some digging around. Did you bring a computer?"

"On my vacation? I don't think so." Joe shook his head as he opened the door. Liesle and Hank immediately began a circuit of the suite, discussing security.

Frank's gaze turned thoughtful. "I bet I could get a laptop from the hotel . . ."

Nancy shook off her worry about Joe, and looked up at Frank affectionately. "You're such a geek. Just promise me you aren't going to spend all of our free time with you're eyes glued to a computer screen."

He grinned at her. "Not a chance when you're around, _darling_."

Nancy made a gagging noise. "Please, you just can't affect the proper Jersey/New Canaan uppity tone that Phillip can, so don't even try."

Van was cracking up. "Here, here."

Joe sneered at Nancy's joke. "I thought it was pretty good."

"I'm calling the desk, and see if it's possible to borrow a laptop." Frank made a beeline for the phone in the living area.

Vanessa headed for the bathroom. "I need to powder."

Joe walked into the bedroom and began emptying his pockets onto the dresser. Since he didn't close the door, Nancy followed him.

"Joe, we need to talk."

"About what?"

"About why you're so angry at me. What did I do?"

When Joe turned toward her, his expression was carefully neutral. "What have you and Frank discussed since he arrived?"

Nancy's brow furrowed. "He just got here at 4:30 am. Aside from getting the scoop on the federal babysitters, and chasing down Phillip Colby, there hasn't been a whole lot of time to discuss much of anything else."

Joe crossed his arms, and walked up to her. "Well I would suggest that you have a talk with him about your future."

"My future?" Nancy was thoroughly confused.

"Not just _your _future." He made an encompassing motion. "The collective _your_ future - you _and_ Frank."

Nancy grimaced. "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh.' I'm working on coming to grips, Nan, but I have to admit, the whole thing strikes me as a unfair and maybe just a little selfish on your part. I mean, I've been waiting for my partner to come back for the last two years, and now –"

Frank appeared in the doorway and Joe stopped, casting a sheepish glance at his older brother. Nancy couldn't tell from Frank's expression whether he had heard the exchange or not, but she suspected he had. It looked like it wasn't the first time the topic had come up between the brothers.

"I'm going to the front desk to sign out a laptop. Why don't you come with me, Joe?"

Joe grabbed his room key off the dresser. His voice was resigned when he said, "Sure, bro."

"Frank . . ."

He smiled tightly at her as Joe brushed past him toward the door.

"We won't be long, Nan." He took a long step forward and kissed her forehead. "Don't worry."

"But . . ."

"We'll talk about it later, when we're alone, Nan. It's alright, really. Joe's just over-reacting, as usual."

Nancy sighed as Frank followed Joe out of the suite, with Liesle and Hank trailing close behind. She walked to the living room, and dropped onto the couch disconsolately. This was exactly what she had been worried about. That stupid condition she had placed on their relationship was affecting Frank's decisions. Why hadn't he talked to her about it before? She sighed. In all fairness, they really hadn't had much time to really talk yet.

"Alright, what's wrong?"

Looking up in surprise, Nancy found Vanessa standing over her, hands on hips, gaze blatantly appraising.

Nancy answered truthfully, "I don't know."

She really couldn't figure it out. Since she had accepted Frank's offer of a 'more serious' relationship, she felt like she had become incapable of clear, coherent thought about the course of her life. Of course, when Frank was close, clear and coherent thought was often elusive. As he became more and more entangled in her life, which seemed to be happening very quickly, she feared she might totally lose her ability to think at all.

Vanessa curled her legs under her at the end of the couch, back against the arm so she was facing Nancy. "You look a little shell-shocked, Nan."

"I guess I am. When Ned left, my life finally fell into an easy, uncomplicated pattern. Now, one week after agreeing to date Frank, everything is total chaos - even worse then it was before."

"All because of Frank?"

Nancy pushed her back against the opposite couch arm, kicked off her shoes, and crossed her legs Indian-style, so she could face Vanessa without twisting her neck. And to give herself time to decide how to respond.

"It's not just Frank, it's everything that . . . comes with him."

"Yeah, these Hardy men know how to complicate a woman's life, no doubt.

Staring at her hands, folded neatly in her lap, Nancy nodded slowly. "It's not just Hardy men. I can't begin to tell you how relieved I was when Ned showed up on my doorstep and told me it was over. If either of us had been honest with ourselves or one another, our relaionship had been over for at least a couple years."

"Ever since your last case with Frank and Joe."

Nancy snapped her head up and looked at Vanessa in surprise. "What?"

"That's about the same time everything started to really unravel with Frank and Callie, though I think it had started even before that. She really didn't take the break-up well at all."

"I thought Callie initiated it?"

"She did." Vanessa paused, lips pursed in thought before taking a deep breath to continue. "I'm going to be very honest with you, Nancy. I hated you for breaking them up. Callie was a good friend, but she finally came to the conclusion that she couldn't compete with you. That's exactly how she put it."

Nancy felt like she had been sucker-punched. "I never meant to come between them, Vanessa. You have to believe me."

Vanessa smiled, and waved a dismissive hand. "Of course you didn't, and I said I _hated_ you, past tense. I was upset at the time, but Joe was so thrilled when Callie and Frank broke up. It led to some rather interesting discussions. He told me that if I saw you and Frank together, I would understand. He said that sometimes, we don't choose who we fall in love with. After seeing you together last weekend, even before you decided to start dating, I knew he was right. You and Frank are like two halves of the same whole."

Vanessa's words echoed in Nancy's head, 'two halves of the same whole.' That was exactly how she felt with Frank. And it was why, when he was away from her, it was like something vital was missing. It bothered her that in less then a week she was that reliant on him.

"How can a hole you didn't know was there become such a huge issue in one week?" she asked. "I mean, I'm sure that's Joe's problem, too, though he obviously has far more cause than I do. But I know exactly how he feels. How can that be?"

"Nan, you're not making a whole lot of sense."

"I know. Frank does that to me."

Vanessa smiled. "How about this – I won't interrupt and you just talk it out."

Jumping up from the couch, Nancy started pacing, allowing all of her doubts and fears about her relationship with Frank to tumble out. "I was perfectly happy with my life the way it was after Ned left. I didn't go to New York looking for the complication of a new relationship, in fact, just the opposite. I told myself _not_ to get hung up on Frank because I knew, going in, that it was a very real possibility. He has this pull I just can't seem to resist. For someone not looking for complications, I sure did find some. Just look where we are now."

Nancy took a deep breath, and struggled to organize her thoughts. "Frank is rearranging everything in his life to accommodate some stupid condition I put on the relationship. Something I did, I might add, purely out of an intense fear of ending up in the same position I was in with Ned. _That_ is obviously making Joe angry at me, and I certainly can't blame him. To top it all off, I feel guilty, because part of me is thrilled to have Frank move to Chicago, and fit himself into my life, which is selfish and wrong on _so_ many levels, I don't even want to contemplate it. You have to believe me, Van, I never meant for any of this to happen."

Vanessa started to chuckle and Nancy stopped in front of her and glared. "It's not funny, it's a flipping mess, and it's all my fault."

Reaching out, Vanessa took Nancy's hand, and pulled her down to the couch. "It is not your fault, Nancy. You need to relax. First off, Joe's pissed. Big whoop, he'll get over it, he always does. As for Frank's decisions, none of them are set in stone. Right now, my impression is that he's just trying to get his ducks in a row. It's Frank. He's a contingency planner. And finally, this condition that has Frank moving to Chicago. You made it, you can take it back. All three of you are adjusting quickly to a vastly different playing field than what existed a week ago. Give yourself some time. It will all work out."

Nancy searched Vanessa's face. "You really think so?"

"I'm certain of it. And whether you and Frank choose to live in Chicago, or New York, or sleepy little Bayport or River Heights – you'll be together. Isn't that what's important?"

Vanessa's earnest tone accompanied by the gentle squeeze of her hand melted all of the tension that had uncomfortably tightened Nancy's shoulders as they talked.

"Thank you, Van. You're absolutely right. I just need to remember what's important."

*

Frank sighed as Liesle and Hank entered the elevator with him and Joe. He was quickly tiring of having shadows, no matter how nice they were.

He glanced sideways at his brother. Joe was definitely giving Nancy a hard time, and it was starting to irritate him. He decided that despite the lack of true privacy, they needed to talk about it.

Turning to face his brother, Frank leveled Joe with an uncompromising gaze. "You need to get a grip, Joe. Nancy is not to blame for my decisions."

Joe started, and crossed his arms. "You told me yourself that Nancy was the one who said she wasn't leaving Chicago. Seems awful damn selfish to me."

"Chicago is her home. It's where her father is, and he's her family, Joe. She's worked at ADA for two years, and she likes it – and based on what I've seen, Riley Adams likes and respects her. I think it's kind of selfish of you to assume that she'd leave everything behind to join the Hardy clan in Bayport."

"But she didn't even consider it," Joe said angrily. "It seems to me that if she really cared about you, she would take your feelings about the future into account."

"My feelings, or yours? I question who is being selfish here."

Frank felt slightly guilty about the sharp tone, but not too. Joe was being his usual stubborn self, and sometimes it took a swift kick to the head, figuratively if not literally, to get him to listen.

"So you _want_ to move to Chicago, and leave your family behind?"

"Stop being so melodramatic, little brother. You make Chicago sound like the other side of the world. Besides, what I want has nothing to do with leaving my family. It has everything to do with wanting to be with Nancy. I thought you, of everyone, would understand that."

Joe's face fell, and his arms dropped to his side. "I do understand. I just . . . I thought we'd work together at the business that Dad started. It's what we always talked about. Then all of the sudden, Nancy enters the picture and you're ready to chuck it all and move to Chicago. No discussion, or consulting with anyone, just, 'bam' you're leaving."

Frank shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm the one who's in transition. Moving to Chicago is an easy thing for me at this point. If I ask her to come to New York, it means totally uprooting her from the life she has here. I can't do that, Joe."

The elevator doors opened, and Joe sighed. "Fine. Just don't ask me to be happy about it, because I'm not. I will, however, get used to the idea . . . eventually."

They stepped into the lobby, and Frank gripped his brother's shoulder, looking at him intently. "I won't ask you to be happy about the move, but I want you to be happy for me. You know Nancy is everything I've wanted. Please cut her some slack, and let's just enjoy the rest of the afternoon."

"I am happy for you, Frank." Joe's smile was resigned. He jerked his head toward the desk, and started moving that direction. "Come on, let's go get your computer and get back upstairs to our ladies so we can enjoy at least some time relaxing before we go back to work."

Frank fell into step beside him. "If tonight's work is anything like this afternoon's work, I'd say we're going to get spoiled."

Joe laughed. "No doubt there. You and Nan know how to pick a great mystery to solve."

While Frank signed out a computer, Joe leaned on the desk and scanned the people lounging in the comfortable lobby seating groups.

He leaned close to Frank as the manager left to retrieve a laptop. "Mitchel is sitting over there with the Tribune, acting like he belongs. I have half a mind to go over there, dump a pitcher of water over his head, and then have security escort him out."

Frank followed his brother's gaze. Sure enough, there sat Mitch Mitchel. Frank caught his glance, which was quickly averted. His cameraman sat nearby, sunglasses shading his eyes. He was slumped in the chair, and appeared to be asleep.

"Dumping a pitcher of water over his head could get _you_ escorted out, little brother. You better behave yourself, or you'll screw up our relaxation time."

Joe grunted in acceptance. "Fine, I'll behave myself - this time. I still wish that guy would disappear."

"I think we can accomplish that," Frank said with a smile.

When the manager returned, Frank took the laptop, and then directed the man's attention to Mitchel and his companion. "I just thought you'd want to know, those two men over there are with Channel 9 News out of New York. I don't believe they have reservations in this hotel."

"Really?" The manager's eyes narrowed. "Thank you very much for bringing them to my attention, sir. I'll take care of it right away."

Frank nodded and watched as the manager turned to talk into a microphone behind the desk. By the time he and Joe were walking back toward the elevator, two security guards had already arrived, and were rousting Mitchel and the cameraman, and asking for identification.

Mitchel pulled out his press id and shrugged. The security guard pointed to the door. Mitchel's smile was resigned as he started to leave.

The cameraman, however, looked furious. He began to resist the security guard who was helping him to his feet. His sunglasses were knocked askew, and Frank felt a chill slip up his spine at the cold, deadly look that the man shot their direction. He urged his brother along, and spoke to Liesle and Hank, "That cameraman is way over-reacting to being tossed out of the hotel."

Hank's eyes were tight. "I noticed." He turned to Liesle. "I'm going to help out security, and see what I can find out. Get them up to the suite, and secured."

Liesle nodded. "Try and get a picture of him, while you're at it, Hank."

Joe's brow was furrowed. "That guy looks kind of familiar."

"You said you had a run-in with Mitchel a couple months ago. You probably saw him then," Frank said.

Joe shook his head. "No. I remember Mitchel's cameraman. He was a meatball, with an attitude. When Mitchel and I got into it, he took a swing at me, and I flattened him. That's not the same guy."

The elevator doors closed as Hank took the cameraman's free arm, and helped the security guard bodily lift him and carry him toward the hotel entrance. Frank recognized the frustration in his brother's tight gaze.

"Where do I know that guy from?"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Well, it's very late (or very early, depending on how you look at it) here in northeast Ohio and I decided I'd been looking at this chapter enough. Any and all errors are mine :S hopefully I caught most of them! As always, thanks to all my reviewers. I'm glad you're still enjoying the story, and I hope I'm able to keep you interested moving forward.

I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys, and I make no money from this. My only reward is your review – hint, hint ;) Please press that little review button at the end of the chapter and let me know how I'm doing!

Happy reading!

**Chapter 9: A Previous Encounter**

Nancy and Vanessa both rose from the couch when the suite door opened to admit Frank and Joe, followed closely by Liesle.

Liesle's phone toned as she closed and locked the door. She pulled it out and nodded. "Hank got his photo. The guy claims to be Bill Smith. Can't get much more generic than that. Here, Joe, take another look and see if you can place him."

Frank stopped and dropped a light kiss on Nancy's lips on his way to the desk in the corner of the room. She followed him. "What's going on?"

Vanessa had moved to join Joe and Liesle, and echoed Nancy's question. "What's going on?"

Joe squinted at the small screen on Liesle's phone. "Can you forward the picture to Frank's email, so I can get a better look at it on the computer screen?"

"Sure. I'm also going to send it to HQ and have them run facial recognition on him. I seriously doubt his name is Bill Smith."

Joe took Van's hand and they joined Nancy and Frank by the desk. "Got the pic yet, bro?"

"Give me a sec," Frank said.

Nancy rested her forearms across Frank's shoulders and rested her chin on one of her hands so her face was level with his. "Are you going to tell us what's going on?"

Joe answered the question. "Mitchel and his cameraman were still hanging out down in the lobby. Frank had them kicked out, and the cameraman went a little nuts. He looks familiar, but I can't place him."

While they were talking, Frank had worked his way through the hotel wireless internet access login, pulled up his email account, and downloaded the photo.

Joe examined the picture for several seconds, and then slowly shook his head. "I don't think I know him," he said in frustration, though he continued to stare at the photo.

Frank nudged his brother. "Just relax and stop trying so hard, Joe."

"I can't believe Mr. Uptight is telling _me_ to relax." Joe looked down at Frank with a taunting grin.

"He's not _that_ uptight." Nancy's smile was suggestive.

"Ah, too much information!" Joe whined. Then he snapped his fingers. "I know why he looks familiar. He reminds me of Victor Bucciano, a guy we had arrested a couple months ago. It's the eyes – Vic has those same, dead-looking black eyes."

Nancy raised an eyebrow. "Was that about the same time you had the confrontation with Mitchel?"

Joe snorted. "Actually, exactly the same time."

"What did you get Bucciano on?" Frank asked.

Vanessa answered. "Dad and Joe started investigating Bucciano as a favor to me. A friend of mine at the office, Carrie Rogers, had noticed him hanging around, following her . . . when you first told us about Phillip, Nan, it really creeped me out because it reminded me of what Carrie went through with this guy."

"You must have found something more than the stalking angle. That hardly ever leads to an arrest unless it gets violent," Frank prompted.

Joe hesitated. "We did find something more – a lot more. Bucciano turned out to be a real psycho. Dad and I were able to put evidence together linking him to several rapes in the past couple years. I think Carrie was one of the lucky ones."

"How was Mitchel involved?" Nancy asked.

Vanessa crossed her arms, and turned critical eyes on Joe, who cleared his throat.

"Well, technically he wasn't really involved. You see, Bucciano had gone underground, and we couldn't find him. The BOLO had been out for a couple weeks when we caught a lucky break. Vice had a guy undercover, working illegal gambling clubs. They run in rotating locations around the city, and they were developing the intel to shut the whole operation down. Anyway, the undercover cop recognized Bucciano, and the police decided to move in while he was still at the club, so they wouldn't chance losing him. Con managed to wrangle an invite for Dad and me to the bust."

"What does any of this have to do with Mitchel?" Frank asked.

"I'm getting to that. Mitchel was apparently doing an investigative piece on the illegal gambling clubs, and just happened to be staking out this particular club at the time of the bust. The cops grabbed Bucciano as he left, and he got pretty belligerent. Mitchel, of course, thought it looked like a great news clip."

Joe hesitated and Vanessa prodded him. "Tell them the rest."

"I stepped in and told Mitchel to get lost. He started spouting about his first amendment rights, and shoved me out of the way, at which point I tripped over the curb and landed on my ass. I was pretty pissed when I got up, and grabbed him. That's when the cameraman took a swing at me, and I . . . I flattened him."

Vanessa looked far from happy. "I had to go bail him out because Dad refused to."

Frank shook his head. "That hot head of yours gets you into more trouble, little brother. I don't blame Dad. I would have let you cool your heels in lockup overnight, too."

"You didn't notice the resemblance of the cameraman to Bucciano at the time?" Nancy asked.

Joe shook his head. "Different cameraman."

Frank was drumming his fingers on the computer. "Did the footage end up on the news?"

"Yes." Vanessa said. "Dad was furious."

"How did I miss this?" Frank was already pulling up the Channel 9 News web site.

"Just think of all the things you miss when you're gone," Joe said blandly.

Frank cast a dark look at his brother. "Don't start, Joe."

After some digging, Frank found the footage online. It showed Joe going down, and leaping back to his feet to grab Mitchel's arm. The camera then went wildly askew, and Mitchel's voice explained what happened in narrative form while a still of the arrest was shown on screen. The clip cut to a full-face shot of Mitchel himself as he wrapped up the segment.

"So, while police were conscientiously bringing down serial rapist, Victor Bucciano based on evidence compiled by Hardy Investigators, Joseph Hardy was punching out my cameraman. Behavior such as this might call into question who is worse, the criminal, or the supposed crime stopper. This is Mitch Mitchel, Channel 9 News, reporting the side of the story that no one wants you to know."

"That's a hell of a provocative byline," Nancy said. "Must bring the conspiracy theorists crawling out of the woodwork."

"Nobody ever accused Mitchel of being even-handed," Vanessa said.

Joe shook his head in disgust. "I don't believe they still have this on line."

Frank had rewound back to the still and leaned forward, peering at the picture. He paused the video, and took a screen-shot of the image. Pulling it up, he zoomed on a figure in the background. When he sat back, his smile was smug.

"Lucky for us they do."

Joe leaned forward. "That's him."

"Who?" Nancy and Vanessa asked in unison.

"Mitchel's new cameraman, moonlighting as a bouncer at an illegal gambling club in New York," Joe said.

Frank's grin was teasing as he glanced sideways at Nancy. "We should have suspected this, Nan. I mean, what self-respecting news cameraman would have missed getting footage of your greeting for Mitchel last night?"

"Now that sounds like a story I'd like to hear." Joe grinned at her.

Nancy stood up and crossed her arms as she considered the brothers through narrow eyes. "You can both take a long walk off a short pier."

Behind her, Liesle was talking on her cell. "Willis, that photo I just sent you, check it against known associates of Victor Bucciano. He was arrested on rape charges in New York about two months ago."

*

Nancy's arms slipped around his neck, and her breath tickled his ear, distracting Frank from the Colby family history he had printed out and was studying.

"I finished charting the travel itinerary against the account deposits. I think it's time for a break."

He took her arm, and pulled her around the chair and onto his lap, as he set the paperwork down on the desk.

"Is this what you had in mind, Drew?" He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Well, I was thinking we should go over there and visit with Van and Joe, but you don't hear me complaining."

Her blue eyes were bright, her lips turned up in an inviting smile. She leaned forward and he met her lips in a warm, probing kiss.

"Hey, get your own room."

Joe's voice sounded from behind him and Frank spun the chair to face his brother, who sat slouched at the far end of the couch. Legs stretched out in front of him, he had one arm wrapped around Vanessa, who was curled up tight against him, eyes half-closed. The television was on an old movie.

"Oh, it's _The Desk Set_. This is one of my all-time favorite Tracey/Hepburn movies," Nancy said. "I used to want to be Bunny Watson. I read the encyclopedia incessantly for about six months after I first saw it."

Frank was disappointed when Nancy left his lap to move toward the couch. He got up and joined her at the opposite end from Van and Joe.

Joe was obviously disinterested in the movie. "So, did you figure anything out with your computer, there, oh geeky brother of mine?"

As Nancy settled into the crook of his arm, Frank was finding it difficult to focus on anything but the warmth of her body pressed against him.

Nancy responded to Joe's question, "Most of the account deposit origins paralleled Phillip's travels."

"Meaning?" Joe asked.

Frank sighed as the puzzle of Phillip Colby forced its way into the forefront of his thoughts. "Meaning, little brother, that it appears he may have been making the deposits himself."

Joe's brow furrowed. "That doesn't make a lot of sense."

"It makes sense if he was making money while he was traveling. The same could also explain why he didn't make many withdrawals," Nancy said.

Frank found the parallel interesting, but something else was nagging at him. "Maybe, but what could he have been doing to make that kind of money? Some of those deposits were upwards of a hundred thousand euros."

Joe whistled. "Whatever he did, he must have been good at it."

Vanessa shifted. "I wish you three would button it. I love this part. I'm telling you, if Spencer Tracie ever looked at me like that, I'd give him whatever he wanted."

Nancy sat up. "Wait a minute, that's it. What about that Interpol flag that you noticed, Frank? The one in Greece."

"Matt said the charges were dropped. Some rich widow that claimed a Phillip Colby stole money from her."

"That's how he made money," Nancy said.

Vanessa looked at Nancy, her interest obviously aroused. "I think you could be onto something, Nan. I mean, goodness knows Phillip has the looks for it. He could probably charm the Pope out of his ring."

"Wait a minute. I see where you're going, but why would someone whose father is in international finance and obviously has plenty of money at his disposal, need to con lonely widows out of money?" Frank shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense."

Nancy pursed her lips and slumped back into the couch. "Frank's right, it doesn't make any sense."

Joe shrugged. "Maybe he didn't do it for the money."

"Nothing about Phillip Colby makes any sense," Frank said. "He's a spoiled rich kid, with money at his disposal, who chooses to go hiking around the Mediterranean on a shoestring. He seems to really be in love with Yvonne, but he's stalking Nancy. He's got plenty of money to buy Yvonne jewelry, and yet he breaks into Nancy's apartment and steals hers. I just can't figure the guy out, and I'm kind of tired of trying, at least at the moment."

He allowed his thoughts to stray away from the quandary of Colby as he slipped his hand along Nancy's waist under her shirt to find warm, silky skin. Nancy laced her fingers with his, and stopped his hand from wandering any further.

She stretched up to kiss his cheek. "Behave yourself, Hardy."

"You're no fun."

Van stretched out a leg and kicked Frank's arm. "Frank Hardy, you listen up and behave yourself, or you'll have to deal with me."

Frank closed his eyes and sighed. "Spoil sport."

"I think you're a bad influence on my big brother, Nan," Joe said.

"Joe." The warning in Frank's tone was unmistakable.

"I'm afraid you might be right, Joe."

Nancy's voice sounded far too serious. Frank opened his eyes and looked down at her, noting the brooding expression. Based on the conversation that had preceded the change in mood he could make a good guess at what was bothering her, but he chose to play dumb.

"What?"

"We need to talk."

"That kind of talk requires privacy. And privacy, unfortunately, is something that we have had very little of." Frank knew he was being petulant, but the lack of privacy was starting to wear on him.

Nancy turned to Vanessa and Joe. Vanessa didn't even give her a chance to ask a question. "The bedroom doors close and lock. Help yourselves."

Nancy stood up and pulled Frank with her. As they headed toward the bedroom, Joe's voice followed them. "To talking only . . . help yourselves to _talking only_."

Frank's amused grin faded as Nancy closed the bedroom doors and turned to level him with a somber look.

"I know Joe's been kind of a pain, Nan, but you have to trust me. He'll get over it."

"Joe's not the problem." She crossed her arms. "Frank, I never meant for you to move to Chicago. I thought we agreed that we would just have to deal with a long-distance relationship for awhile, until we figured out where we were going to end up. I feel like you're jumping the gun."

"You don't want me to move to Chicago?" Frank felt his heart drop into his feet.

"What? No. I mean . . . that's not what I said." Nancy's expression reflected confusion. "I would like nothing more than to have you move to Chicago. I mean –"

Frank smiled happily, and closed the distance between them. "Then I don't understand what the problem is."

Nancy put her hands against his chest, her blue eyes imploring. "I know why you're doing this, Frank, and it isn't necessary . . ."

Pulling her into his arms, he leaned down and kissed her. "It is necessary, Nan. I know this may seem impulsive, but I've really missed you this past week."

She relaxed against him, her expression softening. "I've missed you, too."

Frank leaned down and covered her mouth with his. Her lips parted willingly, and he probed the warmth of her mouth, savoring the taste. He wrapped his arms around her, and she slid her hands up to his shoulders, allowing him to mold her body to his. Soft kisses quickly deepened, and became urgent as they melded together.

It occurred to Frank that his brother wouldn't be very happy about the course that their 'talk' was taking. But with Nancy in his arms, he wasn't sure he really cared.

It was Nancy who put on the brakes. "Joe said talking, only. I don't think we should be doing this."

The breathless sound of her voice was encouraging, rather than discouraging. Frank leaned his forehead against hers, and smiled. "The door locks, and I doubt he has a key."

Her accepting sigh was the permission he had hoped for. He pressed his lips to the hollow of her neck, and felt her heart beat racing under his lips. His own heart sped up to match it, as every sense tuned in to Nancy.

He would have ignored the knocking, but not Nancy. He groaned as she pulled away and walked to the door. In the entryway, just outside the bedroom, Yvonne and Phillip were being greeted by Joe.

Frank ran his hands back through his hair in frustration. Taking a deep breath, he got himself under control and followed Nancy out to greet the new arrivals, wondering just what the hell Colby wanted now.

Whatever it was, it had better be good, Frank thought irritably.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: First, let me apologize for not posting mid-week. I was all ready to post this chapter, when I decided that I had tried to cram too much, and not enough, into it, and undertook a nearly whole-sale rewrite of the bugger. Anyway, the upshot is that though I didn't post mid-week, I should be able to post a couple chapters this weekend. I hope that is enough to make up for missing the midweek posting!

As always, thanks to those who reviewed! I'm so glad to hear that I am keeping you on your toes, and intrigued. I'm anxious to hear what you make of the clues I drop in this chapter. It's loaded!

I don't own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys, and I make no money from this. So please, give a poor author a little something, and hit the review button at the end of the chapter!

**Chapter 10: Snoops and Spooks**

"I thought that you girls should have party clothes for the club opening. So I told Phillip that while he kept your boys company, I was going to take you back up to our suite and find you something suitable to wear tonight."

"That's very generous, Yvonne, but really unnecessary –," Vanessa started.

"Oh, nonsense. I have more clothes than I could ever wear again. I'm sure we can find something for each of you. It will be fun."

Nancy looked from Yvonne to Vanessa, both tall and slender, and shook her head. "Yvonne, I seriously doubt you have anything that's going to fit me –"

Yvonne took her arm with a determined smile. "You just watch me."  
She caught Vanessa's arm as she dragged Nancy to the door. "You boys behave while we're gone."

Nancy glanced back, and Frank's dark, still-smoldering gaze made her breath catch. Yvonne had lousy timing. She raised an eyebrow at him and indicated the desk in the living room with a pointed glance. Frank nodded slightly to indicate he understood, and turned away to go make sure that their work from earlier was hidden from their unexpected guest.

Resigning herself to Yvonne's ministrations, Nancy pasted a smile on her face and accompanied her out the door without further protest.

In the elevator, Yvonne leaned against the wall, and looked at Nancy with a teasing smile. "So, Frank looked far less than happy to have me whisk you away, Nancy."

Vanessa laughed. "Yeah, but Joe was glad you showed up."

"Joe definitely wouldn't have been happy with the course my and Frank's 'talk' had taken. It probably is a good thing you showed up when you did, Yvonne," Nancy admitted.

"I just can't get over how head over heels Frank is with you, Nan." Vanessa was still chuckling.

Nancy could feel her face redden. "He's not alone."

Yvonne's gaze was thoughtful. "When you find the right man, they certainly can turn your life upside down, can't they? My guy did that to me, too. We've been together nearly two years now, and I still can't get enough of him."

The elevator doors opened, and they moved into the hallway together. Vanessa put an arm around Nancy's shoulders. "I think Frank has been waiting for you for a long time, Nan. I saw him and Cal together quite a bit, and _never_ did he look at her like he looks at you. The sparks are practically visible."

Yvonne nodded. "As are the daggers. And Vanessa is right. The look on his face when he walked out of the bedroom made me want to fan myself. I don't usually go for tall, dark and handsome, but Frank could make a woman change her mind."

Nancy took a deep breath, and swallowed. Listening to Van and Yvonne, she was uncomfortably aware of her body's spontaneous reaction to even just talk of Frank. The physical manifestation of the need he seemed to arouse in her was difficult to stifle, especially with the two of them going on about him.

"Can we please change the topic of conversation?" Nancy begged.

Van squeezed her shoulders, her grin teasing. "Sorry, Nan. We promise not to talk about Frank . . . too much."

By now they had reached the Presidential Suite and followed Yvonne into the bedroom.

"Well here's a change of subject for you," Yvonne said, as she opened the walk-in closet with a flourish. "Honestly, Vanessa, you can have your pick. I think you and I probably take the same exact size."

"How long have you been staying here?" Vanessa asked in awe. "It looks like you live here."

"No, but Daddy lives here in town, and I sent for my essentials from home when Phillip and I arrived. I have a whole other closet-full of dresses and clothes at home."

Nancy let Yvonne and Vanessa start rummaging through the closet while she took the opportunity to snoop. Vanessa seemed to take the hint, asking questions to keep Yvonne's focus off Nancy.

Nancy's attention was immediately drawn to the dresser. A large jewelry armoire that she suspected was Yvonne's occupied much of the space, but next to it sat a small, ebony box with pearl inlay. Nancy bypassed the armoire and opened the box. Inside she found a wallet, a Rolex watch, and several other pieces of men's jewelry. Glancing back, she made sure Yvonne and Vanessa were still occupied, and started picking through the contents, looking at each item briefly.

The only jewelry of interest in the box was a class ring, and this she picked up and examined closely. It appeared to be a department-store type class ring, which seemed odd for a guy who came from money. The school was indicated with generic initials, 'BHS,' over a deep blue stone with a starburst underneath. On one side was a billiard table with the name 'Guy.' The other side had a yin yang symbol with what she assumed was a graduation year, 2001. The name 'Gaetano Mancini' was etched into the silver metal of the inside of the band.

So it wasn't Phillip's class ring, after all. But, who the heck was Gaetano Mancini, and why did Phillip Colby have his class ring? Maybe he made a habit of stealing people's jewelry. She set the ring back in the box, her thoughts churning.

She had left the wallet for last. Checking on Yvonne and Van once more, she picked it up and flipped it open, poking through the many crevices of the tri-fold leather contraption – and men had the nerve to talk about a woman's purse, she thought.

She found a pocket hidden under a flap, and folded within it a series of four pictures of two young men. She was fairly certain one of them was a younger Phillip, though in the grainy and faded black and white photos the two men looked very similar. The pictures had been taken at one of those souvenir photo booths somewhere, and Phillip had obviously carried them around with him for some time.

Yvonne's voice floated out of the closet. "Ooo, I think this would fit Nancy, and the color couldn't be more perfect!"

Nancy slipped the photos into her pocket, and quickly replaced the wallet in the box, closing the lid silently.

She joined Yvonne and Van in the closet. "Let me see!"

Yvonne handed her a short, electric blue cocktail dress. "It will be a little longer than intended on you, but I think it could work. Try it on."

Nancy laid the dress on the bed, and unfastened her pants. As they dropped to the floor, Nancy's locket fell out of the pocket. Yvonne snatched it up.

"Oh, I broke the chain. There's a jeweler just down the street. You must let me have the concierge take it down there to be fixed. Then you could wear it this evening."

"That's not necessary, Yvonne."

"I won't take 'no' for an answer."

She spun away, leaving Nancy looking after her. Nancy didn't think there were many people who dared to say 'no' to Yvonne Whitney. The woman was obviously accustomed to getting her way.

In this case, Nancy didn't mind. She was just relieved that the photos hadn't followed the locket out of her pocket. She ensured the strip of pictures was tucked deep in the pocket, and then carefully folded her pants and laid them on a nearby chair.

She jumped when Van touched her shoulder and whispered. "Did you find anything?"

"Yes –"

"Does the dress fit, Nancy?" Yvonne called from the living room.

She stripped off her shirt. "I don't know yet." The answer seemed to suffice for both Yvonne and Vanessa.

Van had picked up the dress, and helped Nancy pull it over her head. Nancy grunted as Van tried to pull the zipper up. "Ouch, easy Van. I'm not a sausage."

Giggling, Vanessa called out, "We're going to have to try again, Yvonne. I think the key may be to find something strapless. Nancy's shoulders are too broad."

Yvonne had returned, and took a turn tugging at the zipper, before she nodded agreement. "Well the shoulders do seem to be the issue. Not a problem. I have a lot of strapless dresses."

"Strapless?" Nancy asked uncertainly.

Vanessa laughed. "Yes, Nancy, strapless. I think Frank might like that."

"Oh, I'm certain he will." Yvonne's smile was wide.

"Well, then, strapless it is," Nancy said with an accepting grin.

*

Frank removed his jump drive, flipped the papers he had been reading face down on the keyboard of the laptop and closed the screen.

"What are you working on, Frank?" Phillip asked.

He turned and held up his jump drive. "I was working on editing my master's thesis."

Joe dropped onto the couch and snorted. "Yeah, he carries that thing everywhere he goes."

"Where are you going to school?" Phillip asked as he sat down in an easy chair near the couch.

"George Washington University. I should graduate soon with a Master's in High Tech Crime." Frank motioned toward the refrigerator. "Joe, what do you have to drink? Phillip, do you want anything?"

"There's soda and beer. Grab me a beer, would ya, bro?"

"Beer sounds good," Phillip said.

Frank returned a minute later with beers all around, and dropped onto the couch. Indicating the television, he said, "I think you can turn that off, Joe."

"What a relief. I'm getting a little tired of the old romantic comedies, but Van loves them." Joe flipped the television off, and turned to Phillip. "So, how fancy is this club we're going to, anyway?"

"Ties aren't required. I think we'll be fine in jackets," Phillip said.

Frank grimaced. "Got an extra jacket, Joe?"

"Yeah, but my jackets look like tents on you, my skinny, _little_ brother."

"I'm not skinny. You're just a moose. And I'm still taller than you."

"Yeah, by like one inch. I've got more than that on you in shoulder width."

Phillip laughed. "Are you two always like this?"

Frank grinned. "We only argue this particular point once per month. We try to rotate our argument schedule so they don't get too stale."

"We do introduce special topics periodically, just to mix it up," Joe added.

"You two act more like best friends than brothers. The guys I knew who were brothers never got along that well."

"Yeah, well, we're more like partners than brothers," Joe said, then scowled. "Or at least we were."

"That would be the special topic du jour, and I'm sick of it already," Frank said sourly.

Joe sighed. "Sorry, just slips out sometimes. Dealing."

"What's wrong?" Phillip asked.

"Nothing," Joe snapped.

"He's pissed because I'm moving to Chicago, instead of back to the Bayport area."

"Bayport, New York?"

"Yeah. That's where we grew up. Our folks still live there."

"You live there, Joe?" Phillip asked.

"Van and I have an apartment in Brooklyn," Joe said. "It's convenient since Dad bought a small office building in Rosedale and moved Hardy Investigators there. That's where I work."

"But the lovely Ms. Drew is here in Chicago, so Frank won't be joining the family business. Now I understand the problem," Phillip said.

"I just don't understand why Nan won't even consider a move to New York. Dad would hire her in a heart beat. He knows what a killer team we are." Joe slumped further into the couch, expression sullen.

"Nancy is the only family her dad has. I don't feel right asking her to move away from him. We've been over this, Joe."

"He's right, Joe," Phillip said. "You don't take an only daughter away from her father. I think that's a rule somewhere."

"Is that why you're moving away from New Canaan?" Joe asked.

Phillip seemed to shut down at the mention of New Canaan. "There was nothing for me at home, anymore. I haven't been there in some time." He chuckled, and added, "Giving up the good life in the French Riviera, however, was definitely a sacrifice."

"Is that where you met Yvonne?" Frank asked.

"I met her in France, yes. She had been studying at the Sorbonne, and was . . . shall we say, ready for a break."

Frank raised an eyebrow at him. "Sounds like you weren't such a good influence on the lovely heiress."

A flash of emotion crossed Phillip's face, and Frank's impression was that of guilt, or perhaps shame. He couldn't be certain, and the emotion was hidden as quickly as it had appeared.

"Probably not, but that will be our secret. She skipped out, and we toured the entire Mediterranean. Personally, I would have been very happy to continue travelling, but Yvonne was ready to come home."

"So you gave up all that freedom for her, huh? Are you nuts?" Joe asked.

"I'm pretty nuts about her, yeah."

The New Canaan uppity accent had been dropped entirely during that last statement. He sounded just like any other guy walking the Jersey streets. Phillip Colby was a study in contradictions, but Frank had to admit that he was starting to actually like the guy. He just wasn't sure he trusted him.

Taking advantage of Phillip's forthcoming disposition, Frank asked another question, "How long did you and Yvonne travel before coming back to the states?"

"A little over a year."

"And her father didn't have a problem with that?" Joe asked in surprise.

"Actually, he wasn't at all happy that she had left France without telling him." Phillip seemed to relax into the story. "He even came to Italy while we were there, and tried to talk Yvonne into going back to school. But she was adamant, and as he always does, David gave into her."

"You met David Whitney then?" Frank asked.

Phillip shook his head and smirked. "Yvonne told him she was traveling with a girl friend that she had met at the Sorbonne. She didn't think her father would be nearly as agreeable if he knew she was traveling with a couple guys."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "A _couple_ guys?"

Phillip stiffened, and Frank got the impression he hadn't meant to reveal that. "Yes, well, when I met Yvonne, I wasn't traveling alone. A friend of mine had joined me."

"Someone you met in your travels?" Joe asked. "That can be dangerous, you know."

"No, it was an old friend from back home. His pare . . . um, he had lost his father, and taken off a few years before my parents were killed. He was in Turkey when it happened, and immediately came to Yemen when he heard. He convinced me to take a break from school and travel with him for awhile. I was in a deep state of shock. I'm not sure what I would have done if Guy hadn't shown up."

Frank sat forward. "How were your parents killed?"

"It was a car bombing." Phillip said.

"I remember that," Joe said. "It was about two years ago, wasn't it? It was all over the news in New York."

"Not quite two years," Phillip said.

"Had you been traveling for awhile before that?" Frank asked.

Phillip looked at Frank warily, but answered evenly. "Some, but not like afterwards. I was in school, and could only travel during my breaks."

Frank could tell he was pushing too hard. If he wanted to keep Phillip from totally shutting down, he was going to have to back off.

He smiled sympathetically. "I can't imagine losing both my parents so suddenly. It must have been a real shock. It's a good thing you had a friend so immediate, especially considering where you were."

Phillip relaxed slightly. "Yes, he had been traveling for several years all around Europe and the Mediterranean. Guy had been like a brother to me, but we lost touch when he started traveling, and I went to school – you know, the usual thing that happens to high school friends. If there's one good thing that came out of my parents' death, it's that I was able to renew and strengthen an old friendship."

Liesle strode in at that moment, her face set in a grim expression. "Well, I just received word back from the office. We have an identification on our cameraman, and it greatly complicates things."

Frank grimaced. He didn't think things could get much more complicated than they already were.

Apparently he was wrong.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thanks a million to my reviewers. Here's that 'bonus' chapter for the weekend. Hopefully I'll make mid-week posting this week, but no promises. Life is getting hectic with the approach of spring.

The Hardy's and Nancy don't belong to me, I do this just for fun. I do appreciate the reviews though!

Happy Easter, if you're so inclined. If not, Happy Spring ;)

**Chapter 11: Primped but not Prepared**

Yvonne spent the next two hours treating Vanessa and Nancy like Barbie and Skipper. Nancy definitely felt like the under-developed little sister of the two.

Just as they finished dressing, a bell hop returned with Nancy's locket. Yvonne answered the door, and squealed in delight. She walked back to Nancy, and carefully clasped it around her neck.

"Go on, open it." Yvonne bobbed on the balls of her feet like an excited child.

Nancy opened the locket and gasped. "You found the pictures. Oh, Yvonne, thank you so much."

Yvonne gave Nancy a warm embrace. "You're welcome, Nancy. It's the least we could do. I'm sure you'll find the rest of your mother's jewelry. I know how precious those keepsakes can be. Now, for the final touches for Vanessa and I."

While Yvonne and Vanessa accessorized, Nancy turned to look at herself in the full-length mirror, fingering her locket happily. The blue of the sapphires was a perfect compliment to the color of the strapless cocktail dress that Yvonne had given her. Nancy had to admit that despite her reservations in the beginning of this process, the end product was passable. She couldn't help but think that Frank would be pleased. The dress had a fitted silver satin sheath underneath, with a translucent blue fabric layered over top. The hem of the skirt hit just above Nancy's knees, giving her legs the illusion of length. Her only fear was that she was going to kill herself in the ill-fitting strappy silver heels that Yvonne had given her to wear with the outfit.

Nancy turned to look at Vanessa and Yvonne as they tried on jewelry. Vanessa was beautiful, in a burgundy, one-shouldered silk dress. The bodice hugged her body, but the skirt was cut with excess fabric, and fell in clinging folds to mid-calf. The cut and color of the dress were simple, and flattering to Van's graceful good-looks.

Yvonne was stunning, wearing a velvet dress in a rich emerald-green. Satin straps went over her shoulders to meet with the satin border material of a swooping low-cut back. The skirt fell to the floor in the back, but was shorter in the front. Nancy figured Yvonne could make a burlap bag look good, let alone the exquisite, high-end clothing that she had.

They heard movement out in the main part of the suite, and then a knock at the closed bedroom door.

"Darling, is it safe to enter? Frank doesn't have a jacket, and Joe's were too large on him. I'm sure one of mine will fit him."

"We're all decent, dear. Come on in."

Phillip opened the door, and froze, his gaze locked on Yvonne. Nancy wondered how Frank could still think he was stalking her, when Phillip was so obviously smitten with Yvonne Whitney.

Yvonne turned and caught his gaze. A smile lit her face, and she twirled toward him. "Do you think this will do, dear?"

Phillip caught her and pulled her tight against his chest, oblivious to the other two women in the room.

"You are absolutely dazzling, Darling," he said quietly.

Yvonne giggled and gave him a light kiss on the lips. "You look quite dashing yourself, Phillip. But then, don't you always?"

Phillip bent to give her another kiss, which she accepted, before placing her hands against his chest. "Didn't you come here to get Frank a jacket, dear?'

"Yes, of course. I'm being rude again, aren't I?" He spared Nancy and Vanessa each a smile. "You both look lovely as well."

He released Yvonne and strode to the closet, where he pulled out a grey herringbone blazer. "This should do nicely."

Vanessa laughed. "It took us the last two hours to get ready, and in under five minutes the men have pulled it together. Honestly, what is up with that?"

Phillip wrapped an arm around Yvonne as he moved out of the bedroom, chuckling all the way. Vanessa and Nancy followed. Frank and Joe stood in the living area, waiting.

Phillip tossed the jacket to Frank, who accepted it with a smile. "Thanks."

Nancy could tell, as she approached, that Frank would have preferred to remain jacketless. She stopped in front of him and carefully straightened his shirt collar. It wasn't until she raised her eyes to his face that she noticed that he was staring at her, mouth gaping slightly.

"What? Do I have something in my teeth?" She hissed at him.

His face broke out in a warm, faintly amused smile that caused her heart to leap into her throat. "You look incredible, Nan. I might even forgive Yvonne for taking you away from me when she did."

Frank's hand stroked the small of her back, and he leaned down and gave her a light but lingering kiss. Nancy could feel her cheeks color as his words, smile and touch set her heart racing. She gazed into his intelligent brown eyes and found herself wondering what he would make of the clues she had found. She nearly laughed out loud at herself. She was standing in the arms of the man she loved and still her thoughts strayed to the mystery they were trying to solve. Admittedly, part of what had always attracted her to Frank was his sharp intellect and keen analytical capabilities.

She bit her lip as it occurred to her that the pictures she had found were still in her pants pocket. She didn't feel comfortable leaving them here.

"So, are we ready to go?" Phillip asked.

Nancy motioned vaguely toward the bedroom. "We should take our clothes back down to Van's room. That way we won't have to intrude when we come back."

"Oh, nonsense," Yvonne said. "You can pick them up later."

"But it will probably be late when we get back," Nancy insisted.

"Don't worry about it, Nancy. Really," Yvonne said.

Reluctantly, Nancy accepted. "If you're sure it's ok."

"Of course it is."

She caught the curious, almost wary look that Phillip was directing at her. It didn't seem so much threatening as worried, but it made her nervous. She moved closer to Frank, and was grateful when she felt his arm tighten around her.

Unfortunately, she still needed to find an excuse to go back in the bedroom so she could at least retrieve the photos.

"I forgot my wrap in the bedroom," Nancy said as she headed that direction.

"I'll get it for you," Phillip offered.

"No, that's alright." She hurried past Phillip and into the bedroom. The wrap was hanging on the same chair that her pile of clothes was folded on. She slung the length of fabric around her, and then carefully flipped through the clothes to find her slacks. Digging into the pocket she found her cell – that would have made a good excuse if she had thought of it. As she was pulling out the cell she carefully palmed the photos.

A hand touched her shoulder. She jumped and turned to find Phillip Colby standing there, his gaze probing.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

Nancy tried for a nonchalant smile and held out her cell. "I left my cell in my slacks, too. I'd probably forget my head if it wasn't attached. I promised my father I'd speak with him tonight, and he always calls on my cell."

"We certainly can't have you missing Daddy's call, now, can we?"

Phillip walked to the dresser and flipped the lid on the box. Nancy held her breath as he picked up his wallet, checked the cash contents briefly, and then shoved it in his pocket.

"I'm glad you said something. I had forgotten that I took my wallet out of my pocket earlier. It's bothersome when I'm trying to relax."

He walked back to her, and held out an arm. "After you, Nancy."

*

It took all of his self control not to follow Colby into the bedroom. Frank didn't like having Nancy out of his sight, especially when Colby was with her. Joe, who was closer to the bedroom entry than Frank, obviously recognized his unease. He moved toward Yvonne, ostensibly to admire a tennis bracelet she was wearing. The move must have given him a clear view of Nancy and Phillip, and he waved a covert 'all clear' signal to Frank, who heaved a silent sigh of relief.

It wasn't long before Nancy and Colby came back out of the bedroom. Colby moved to the closet by the door to pull out a white faux fur wrap for Yvonne, while Nancy moved Frank's direction.

She pressed her cell phone, and something else into his hand. "Would you hold my phone for me, Frank?"

"Sure." He slipped both items she had handed him into his pants pocket.

"Where are Liesle and Hank?" Vanessa asked.

"Pouting out in the hallway because Frank wouldn't cancel our outing tonight," Joe said.

Frank grunted in irritation. "Excuse me? I don't recall making that decision in a vacuum. I think you were in the room, and involved, little brother, seeing as how the issue could concern you, as well as me."

Frank looked down to find blue eyes, tight with worry, searching his face. "They wanted you to cancel? Why?"

"They identified Mitchel's cameraman. His real name is Vito Bucciano," Frank said.

"Do you mean Victor?" Vanessa asked.

Joe shook his head. "Victor's older brother, Vito. He's an enforcer for the mob."

Nancy pulled away from Frank and crossed her arms. "For what family?"

Frank pressed his lips into a thin line, knowing the answer would just make her worry more.

Nancy's eyes narrowed and she answered her own question. "DeCavalcante. Damn it all, Frank. This is no joke."

He should have known she'd be able to read his silence. He ran a calming hand down her arm, and extracted her hand, pulling her back toward him. "Liesle and Hank alerted the local authorities and the local field office, and they put out a BOLO on Bucciano. He doesn't dare show his face in Chicago right now. I really think the risks are minimal."

"Is he after you or Joe?" Nancy heaved a resigned sighed. "Like it makes any difference."

Vanessa crossed her arms. "Exactly. Which is all the more reason for both of you to be careful."

"I agree," Nancy said. "This is foolish. We should stay here and play it safe."

Yvonne was looking at them in surprise. "What are you all talking about?"

Phillip answered, "We have been hanging out with real live detectives, darling."

"Are you in danger?" Yvonne asked.

Nancy and Vanessa answered, "Yes."

At the same time Frank and Joe responded, "Not really."

Yvonne gaped. "How thrilling. So this man you were talking about, he's here, in Chicago to kill one of you?"

"We don't know that," Frank said.

"The FBI certainly seems to think so, though," Phillip said. He leaned down in an aside to Yvonne, "Those two body guards are actually FBI special agents."

Frank shot Phillip a dark look. "You aren't helping."

Phillip shrugged an apology, his tone pacifying, "Of course, there probably is no safer place for you to spend the evening then at the club. Security will be very tight there tonight."

Joe looked at Vanessa. "See? No safer place."

Vanessa glanced at Nancy, who shrugged.

"They're big boys," Nancy said. "And I imagine Phillip's right. They aren't going to let just anyone walk into a club opening."

"Big boys who seem to attract big trouble," Vanessa said sharply.

"That's why you love me, babe," Joe said.

She cast a stern look at him. "Alright, we can go. _But_ I expect you to be careful, Joseph Hardy, because I'm not up to another kidnapping. Got it?"

She ended waving a finger in his face. Joe grinned at her and dropped a kiss on her nose.

"I'm always careful, Van. You know that."

Vanessa rolled her eyes.

Frank shook his head when Nancy looked up at him. "Don't go there, Drew. You and I both know you attract more trouble than Joe and me combined."

Joe snorted as he wrapped an arm around Van's shoulders. "No doubt."

Nancy wrinkled her nose at Frank. "I take offense at that remark, even if it is _sometimes_ true. I'm fine with going to the club, as long as we both remember who is being reckless here, because this time it is not me."

Phillip smiled, his gaze on Nancy as he slipped an arm around Yvonne. "It's settled then. We go to the club."

He led the way out of the suite, Joe and Vanessa following close behind. Frank put an arm around Nancy and held back.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I'm not the only one being reckless, Nan."

She smiled at him coyly. "Of course not. You and Joe are both being reckless."

"You know that's not what I mean. Colby still worries me --"

She shook her head, chuckling. "I know, but I really think you're barking up the wrong tree with the whole stalking theory. There is something else, entirely going on here."

Frank put his hands on her shoulders and searched her face. She had that shrewd look about her that always got his juices flowing. "What did you find?"

Yvonne's voice sounded from out in the hall, "Where did Nancy and Frank disappear to?"

"I'll tell you all about it later," Nancy promised, giving him a quick peck on the lips. She slipped away and moved toward the door.

Frank was quickly distracted. Watching her move in that outfit caused his mind to drift in decidedly unprofessional directions. He _was_ feeling reckless, but not in the way she was thinking. Spending the next few hours with Nancy in a sultry jazz club might be enough to drive him crazy. Maybe they could slip away. The thought of stealing some time alone with her was enough to set his nerves buzzing.

At the door she turned and looked at him. "Are you coming or not, Hardy?"

"I'm coming. I was just enjoying the view."

Frank joined her at the door and they walked through arm in arm.

Hank stopped them in the hallway. "Here's the drill tonight. You two are my responsibility. I don't want either of you slipping out of sight while we're at the club." He caught and held Frank's gaze, his expression uncompromising. "I'm dead serious, Frank. Bucciano is suspected in the deaths of dozens of people, and they've never been able to convict him. He's good, and I don't want you taking any chances."

Frank ground his teeth as his fleeting fantasies crashed headlong into reality. He looked down at Nancy, whose expression was almost as severe as Hank's.

It was going to be a long night.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Thanks to everyone, as always, for the reviews. I think I responded personally to each of you that left a signed review. It's a great gift to receive those encouraging little notes

All mistakes are my own. It's kind of late, and I'm a little fuzzy, but I think I caught all those pesky little typos, though a few always seem to sneak by me . . .

I don't own the Hardys or Nancy Drew (darn) and I make no money from this. Just the fun of spinning a twisted tale for our favorite sleuths ;)

And please punch the button at the end of the chapter and leave a review!

**Chapter 12: Smile for the Camera**

The elevator was crowded with eight adults on it, but Nancy didn't mind the close quarters. Frank leaned one shoulder on the side of the elevator and hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her in front of him. She laced her fingers into his, and pressed against him, surprised again by the involuntary reaction of her body to being close to him. Despite being concerned about Bucciano and Colby, she could still lose herself in Frank's touch.

In fact, being close to him, particularly when they were alone, was enough to short-circuit her brain. The private conversation they had earlier had not gone at all the way she had planned. She didn't even make it to the part where she rescinded that stupid 'I'm not leaving Chicago' condition of hers. At least she didn't think she had. She made a mental note to bring the subject up again. They really needed to hash out this whole shared future thing, because she was certain, despite Vanessa's assurances to the contrary, that the course Frank currently seemed to have them set on was alienating her from his entire family.

Nancy's attention was distracted by Liesle tugging on Hank's jacket. Hank leaned down so his ear was in front of her mouth, and she whispered something, but despite trying, Nancy couldn't make out a single word. She did a double-take, as the elevator jerked to a stop, because she could have sworn she saw Liesle nip Hank's earlobe as he pulled away. Hank straightened the slightest hint of a smile in his usually bland expression.

The elevator doors slicked open. Hank and Liesle, both looking very somber, stepped off and turned as the rest of them disembarked. Nancy shook her head. Frank was getting her so muddled she was starting to see things.

Hotel security seemed to be present in force in the lobby, and Hank stopped to talk with a man who was apparently in charge.

Hank shook his head in disgust as he turned back to them. "The press is all over every entrance. Guess we'll just make a run for it. Hotel security is going to clear the front walk."

Liesle looked at Frank and Joe. "Once the path is clear, I want you to head straight to the limo."

While they waited just inside the hotel doors, murmurs could be heard from the gathered crowd. Press members informing the tourists around them that Phillip Colby and Yvonne Whitney Colby were due to come out any minute to attend David Whitney's new jazz club opening.

Nancy shook her head. "Don't these people have anything better to do?"

Phillip chuckled. "The furor will begin to die down after tomorrow. Two days is about the extent of the Press' attention span."

Yvonne nodded agreement. "I'm sorry you all had to get caught up in this mess. I know it has taken Phillip a little time to get used to the ever-present press, but I'm so used to them, I tend to forget."

"That's probably as good as it's going to get, kids," Liesle said. She glanced at Hank. A brief nod, and they opened the doors, escorting two of the three couples across the sidewalk to the limo. Liesle stayed with Joe and Van, and Hank stuck close to Frank and Nancy.

Several shouts of "That's not them." and "Who are they?" were followed by one distinct voice that shouted out, "That's Frank Hardy!" The declaration was accompanied by a chorus of 'yeah's, as the cameras began to flash furiously, even though Phillip and Yvonne had yet to exit the hotel.

Liesle and Hank closed ranks on the two couples and practically shoved them into the waiting vehicle, then stood and scanned the crowd, trying to spot the person who had recognized Frank.

Phillip and Yvonne chose that moment to walk casually across the sidewalk, smiling and posing a couple times for pictures as cameras flashed incessantly, again.

Joe shook his head. "I think I prefer anonymity."

"Why would anyone in Chicago recognize me?" Frank looked shocked.

"Your interview with that cute AP reporter was picked up by stations across the country, Frank," Nancy said. "Bess and I even watched it last night."

Frank grimaced, and Nancy squeezed his hand. "Phillip said the Press' attention span was only two days. You should be on the downward side, now, Hardy."

"That's a relief. I'm with Joe. I'll be more than happy to slide back into anonymity."

As Phillip and Yvonne crowded into the limo next to Frank, he wrapped an arm around Nancy's shoulders and shifted closer, until she was practically sitting on his lap. Hank and Liesle were the last to enter, and closed the doors. The limo slid away from the curb.

"That wasn't too bad," Yvonne said. "I think the crowd is definitely thinning. They're losing interest already. Now, Frank, why are they so interested in you?"

Frank shrugged. "Who knows?"

Joe laughed. "Aw, don't be so modest, big brother." He turned toward Phillip and Yvonne. "Frank figured out this huge identity theft/mob protection scheme, just last week. He and Nan had a bit of a run-in with the DeCavalcante family. That's probably why Bucciano is in Chicago."

"Yeah, it couldn't have anything to do with the fact that you put Bucciano's brother away for rape two months ago," Frank said.

"He was arrested for rape two months ago. He was just convicted a couple weeks ago," Joe corrected.

The ride to the club took about fifteen minutes, with a detour by the lake front. They discussed the two possible reasons for Bucciano coming to Chicago in some detail. Yvonne and Phillip seemed truly fascinated by the stories, and asked a lot of questions – particularly Phillip.

There was a crowd of press in front of the club, too, and the reverse of the scene at the hotel played out as the three couples made their way into the warehouse-style building. Once inside, they were shown to a private booth that David Whitney had reserved for their party.

Nancy was amazed at how plush the surroundings were. The booth they were shown to was like nothing she had ever seen before. It consisted of several plush arm chairs sitting around a generous area with small round tables dispersed between. The booth area was defined by the heavy velvet curtains that could be drawn for privacy, or pulled back to allow a view to the stage. There were twenty to thirty booths of varying sizes situated on the upper-most level in a circle.

Down several steps was a broad area with dozens upon dozens of small two- and four-person tables draped in burgundy cloths, each with purple-upholstered straight chairs. The tables were spaced to allow privacy, each with a sheer purple or red gossamer cloth. Down another set of steps was the dance floor, and in the center of the dance floor was a circular stage.

The stage curtains were currently drawn, though Nancy could periodically detect motion behind them. The band was apparently setting up. Meanwhile, vintage jazz music playing through the central sound system and Nancy recognized the magical voice of Ella Fitzgerald. The music fitted the surroundings perfectly, and put Nancy in a romantic mood.

She let her hips move to the music, and slipped an arm around Frank's waist. "The club couldn't be more perfect."

*

If it was going to make Nancy move like that, and press up against him, Frank couldn't have agreed more. He found his concerns about Phillip's intentions fading into the dim light of the club, as his attention focused on the beautiful woman at his side.

Frank was glad when they agreed to leave the curtains on the booth open. It allowed them to really drink in the atmosphere of the club. Sultry was the right word for it, from the dim lighting to the color scheme of rich red and deep purple. Everything in the club was designed to give the illusion of privacy, even in the midst of a crowd. Frank was surprised at how well they were able to pull it off in the vastness of the space. Despite a high, almost industrial-like ceiling, the club felt close and intimate.

He led Nancy to a cluster of chairs, where Joe and Vanessa were already sitting. When Nancy started to sit, he caught her around the waist, and sat down first, pulling her down onto his lap. Her arm fell naturally around his shoulders, and her throaty laughter was sweeter music than the crooning of Ella in the background.

Surprise gave way to the intense feelings Nancy aroused when she kissed him. He wasn't normally one to be demonstrative in public, but he blamed the lack of his usual restraint on the setting. He allowed the kiss to deepen, his arms tightening around her.

His brother's voice broke the spell. "I hate to even admit this, but I think Frank and Nan have the right idea."

As Nancy pulled back from the kiss, Frank opened his eyes to find Joe urging Van to get up out of her chair to join him in his.

Frank chuckled. "Why so surprised, little brother?"

Vanessa slapped Joe's hand away. "I'm quite comfortable where I am, thank you." She turned a teasing smile on Frank. "You have to admit, you _have_ been full of surprises lately, Frank. I think Nancy is good for you."

"I couldn't agree more." Frank was rewarded with a soft smile from Nancy.

Phillip and Yvonne appeared in the booth a few minutes later, and walked over to join them.

Yvonne was pouting prettily. "I can't find Daddy. I really want you all to meet him."

"I'm sure he'll show up sometime tonight, darling."

"Of course you're right, dear." Yvonne's face broke into a beautiful smile. "Isn't the club wonderful? I absolutely adore the décor, and this set up is so unique, and intimate. It's just perfect."

"It is," Vanessa agreed.

"The band should be starting soon," Phillip said. "Would anyone care for a drink?"

A waitress appeared at Phillip's elbow. "I can take your orders. Please, sit and get comfortable." She smiled at Nancy and Frank. "These two seem to have the right idea. What can I get you folks?"  
They placed their orders. Phillip and Yvonne took seats and steered the discussion back to the Buccianos. Phillip, in particular, seemed very interested in the mobsters and their connections, and asked quite a few questions.

Their drinks were delivered. Couples began to drift onto the dance floor, as the club filled. Frank was quickly tiring of the topic of Victor and Vito Bucciano. Yvonne and Phillip seemed to be taking a vicarious thrill out of discussing it incessantly. Besides, with Nancy on his lap, his thoughts were definitely straying in non-work-related directions.

Frank pressed his lips to Nancy's ear. "I'd like to dance with you."

Nancy seemed to float to her feet as she spoke to their companions, quietly excusing them. He rose, and took her hand leading her to one of aisles that formed a clear path to the dance floor, like spokes through the seating area. On the dance floor, they moved together, arms around one another. Nancy's head nestled perfectly into the curve of his neck, as they swayed to John Coltrane.

Questions about what Nan had found in Phillip's room floated in and out of his thoughts, but he didn't ask any of them. He was too busy enjoying the music, the ambiance, and the feel of Nancy's body pressed against him. The questions could wait until later.

But when Joe and Vanessa joined them on the dance floor, the mood was disrupted, and Joe had no such reluctance about asking questions.

Joe leaned close and whispered, "Alright, Nan. Vanessa said you found something. Phillip and Yvonne are tied to the booth until David shows up, so now's our chance to get the scoop. Come on, spill,"

Nancy lifted her head, eyes sparking as she spoke in a low voice, telling them about Gaetano Mancini's class ring, and the pictures. "They're in Frank's pocket."

"I bet that's the 'Guy' that Phillip said he was traveling with when he met Yvonne," Joe said.

"I'm sure it is," Frank agreed. "Has anyone else noticed how many questions Phillip has been asking about the Buccianos?"

"And the DeCavalcante family," Joe said.

Vanessa chimed in with a question. "Were there any identifying marks on the pictures, Nan?"

"They looked like they were taken at one of those photo booths, like you find in an arcade. Sometimes those do have indentifying stamps on them, but I didn't notice one in the brief glance I got."

"I'm itching to get them out of my pocket." Frank glanced up and noticed that Phillip and Yvonne were coming to the dance floor. "Guess I better not."

"A lesson in patience, grasshopper," Joe said.

Frank smirked at his brother. "You're the one that needs that particular lesson, bro."

Phillip and Yvonne swung in next to them.

Yvonne was beaming. "Daddy finally showed up. He is really looking forward to meeting all of you. Are you enjoying yourselves?"

"The club is incredible," Nancy said. "I'm glad we came."

Frank and Joe nodded their agreement, as Vanessa enthused, "Oh, definitely. I've never been to a jazz club before, and this place is amazing."

The music had shifted, and Duke Ellington gave way to Ellis Marsalis playing a familiar tune. The dance floor began to fill.

"When is the band supposed to start playing?" Joe asked.

"They are due to start at ten, which is about fifteen minutes away," Phillip said. "David had a buffet of appetizers laid out in the booth, and I asked the waitress to bring another round of drinks."

"Well, the dance floor is getting crowded. Maybe we should head back to the booth and meet our host," Frank suggested.

"I need to give my feet a rest, anyway," Nancy said as they all turned and started to make their way off the dance floor. "I'm really not used to wearing heels."

Yvonne chuckled. "You weren't sure about the strapless dress, either, Nan, but you pull it off quite well."

"I think so," Frank agreed.

Yvonne nudged Frank with a shoulder, laughing. "I told her you would!"

The light banter continued as they made slow progress toward the booth. The club had become crowded over the last hour, and it was difficult to make a way through the throng.

David Whitney was a palpable presence as they approached the booth. He stood watching them with a veiled gaze, piercing blue eyes staring out of a chiseled face under a thick head of white-blond hair. He was under six foot and trim to the point of slimness, but the confidence he exuded made him seem much more imposing then his physical appearance alone would suggest.

Yvonne left Phillip's arm to rush to her father's side, giving him a kiss on the cheek, tittering almost nervously. It was this impulsive and almost childish show of affection that revealed the cracks in Whitney's armor. His face visibly softened when he looked at his daughter, his smile warm and indulgent. Yvonne was obviously the light of his life.

"It's good to see you, Phillip," Whitney said as he took the younger man's hand in a warm grip. He then turned to face Frank and Nancy, who had followed first behind Yvonne and Phillip.

"This is Frank Hardy and Nancy Drew, Daddy. Nancy is from here in Chicago, but Frank is from . . ."

Yvonne faltered, and glanced at Phillip who provided, "Bay Port, New York. It's just outside of the city on Barmet Bay."

"Ah, a new friend from Phillip's old stomping grounds." He shook Frank's hand, and looked at him curiously, then shook his head. Frank wondered at the look.

Whitney then took a firm hold of Nancy's hand, his gaze shrewd. "Ms. Drew, is it? Are you related to Carson Drew?"

"He's my father," Nancy said. "Do you know him?"

"We've crossed paths several times. Carson is a good man, and a great lawyer. Did you follow in your father's footsteps?"

"No, sir. I'm currently working as a private investigator."

"Really? I imagine your father was disappointed."

Frank felt a surge of pride as Nancy stared unwaveringly at the intimidating man. "Dad understood my determination to make my own way in the professional world, Mr. Whitney. He has always aided my decisions without imposing his own views on me. I wouldn't be where I am without his guidance and support."

Whitney's smile was admiring. "The bond between a father and his only daughter is a special one. I'm sure you make your father very proud, Ms. Drew."

"I hope so."

Joe and Vanessa stepped forward as Nancy and Frank moved into the booth.

"This is Joe Hardy, Frank's brother, and Joe's fiancé, Vanessa Bender, both of New York."

Joe shook Whitney's hand and flashed a winning smile. "More specifically, we're living in Brooklyn."

Whitney chuckled, and turned to his son-in-law. "Phillip talks of New York and New Jersey often, and always fondly. I imagine he's enjoyed spending time with a couple of young men from the area."

Phillip smiled. "It is nice reminiscing about my misspent and wild youth. We had just started talking about our experiences in Jersey City when . . . things got hectic."

Joe chuckled. "Jersey City's definitely a great place to go if you're looking for misspent and wild."

"I spent many a late night . . . and early morning in the pool halls around there. Much to my parents' chagrin." Phillip laughed.

They all drifted through the buffet and to seats as they chatted.

"As soon as Frank got his driver's license we started exploring the seedier parts of city," Joe said. "Of course, it was usually Biff, Chet and Frank going out cruising, with me and Tony begging to come along. Jersey City was a favorite destination – Biff and Chet loved to play pool, and got bored playing in Chet's basement."

Phillip's expression was amused. "I spent a lot of time in a pool hall near Lincoln Park. I had a good friend that lived near there."

Frank nodded. "I know the place. There was always a shark around itching to play, and Chet liked to try his hand at it periodically."

"Yeah, but he always ended up losing." Joe laughed.

"That's why they call them sharks." Phillip leaned forward, looking at Frank with a knowing smirk. "Where'd you get your ID?"

"I'm not telling." Frank kept his expression neutral.

Joe snorted. "He made it himself – it was pretty good, too. I could never figure out why he bothered. All we ever did at the place was play pool. He wouldn't get us anything but soda to drink."

"I made it as part of a class project. And I didn't really use it."

"They frown on underagers in a place like that. You probably wouldn't have gotten to stay long enough to play pool without someone of legal age with you," Phillip said.

"Frank Hardy using a fake ID. I never would have imagined it," Nancy teased.

"I didn't _really_ use it."

Joe grinned. "Of course, Frank _was_ the responsible one of our crew. He always made sure we kept our noses mostly clean and got home before curfew."

"If I hadn't been responsible you never would have gotten to leave the house, Joe. Mom and Dad knew better than to let you wander around alone."

"My brother, my keeper." Joe smirked.

"Being your keeper is more than a full-time job. I'm just glad Van came along to help relieve some of the work load."

"I thought you were letting her take the whole load," Joe said.

Frank met his brother's blue-eyed gaze, and was relieved to recognize the amused gleam. But he had felt Nancy stiffen beside him, and suspected she wasn't taking the comment with the teasing intent in which it was delivered. Frank enclosed her hand in his, and squeezed.

Frank let his gaze wander around the booth. Someone had drawn the curtains partially closed. He realized with a start that David Whitney's piercing eyes were locked on him, his gaze blatantly curious.

"You know, Frank, I could swear I know you from somewhere. Have we met before?"

"I don't believe so, sir."

"Frank was on the news last night," Nancy offered.

"Of course." Whitney's gaze cleared. "You're the young man who was responsible for breaking up that identity theft ring in New York last week. You've caused quite a stir."

Frank sighed. "I wasn't working alone. Nancy and Joe were both just as involved as I was."

Whitney's brow wrinkled. "I thought you worked in Chicago, Nancy? What were you doing in New York?"

"I do work in Chicago. I was in New York on business the end of last week. And Frank and Joe are always dragging me into one case or another."

"And you're oh, so unwilling," Joe said.

Nancy wrinkled her nose at Joe, who laughed at her. Frank could feel Nancy relax as she realized Joe was just in a teasing mood.

Whitney's gaze had narrowed. "Who do you work for here in town, Nancy?"

Nancy's responding tone was relaxed, but the grip of her hand on his told Frank she was anything but. "I work for Adam's Detective Agency."

"I see." Whitney glanced at Phillip and Yvonne, who had moved just outside the booth and were talking to another couple that had stopped by.

Whitney stood and held out a hand to Nancy. "Ms. Drew, would you care to dance?"

"Certainly."

Frank had to admire Nancy's ability to hide her unease. Obviously David Whitney wanted to talk to her, and though the cues were subtle, everything about his demeanor suggested he wasn't happy.

Whitney took Nancy's arm in a firm grip and led her out of the booth.

Frank stood up and waked over to Joe and Van, who stood to face him. They looked as concerned as Frank felt.

Joe glanced at Phillip and Yvonne to make sure they were still occupied before hissing, "I think our favorite lady detective is in for a verbal lashing."

"Whitney definitely wasn't happy to learn who she worked for. I wonder what she's going to tell him." Frank followed Nancy's strawberry-blond head, trying to figure out what, if anything, he could do to help.

"If I were her, I'd play it stupid."

"I think that's easier for you then it is for her." Frank smirked at his brother.

"I resemble that remark," Joe said with a grin.

Vanessa put a hand on Frank's arm. "I think you should give them a few minutes, and then go down there and rescue her."

"I think you're right, Van."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Lucky Chapter 13 is up. I'm getting a little discouraged by the lack of reviews. Everyone awake out there? Thanks to those who did push that little button and leave a note: Massu Chan, Nancy Hardy, PrincessSkywalkerOrgana, and Emeralds and Rubies. Those little notes really do keep me going!

I don't own the Hardy's or Nancy . . . blah, blah, blah!

**Chapter 13: The Wrong Kind of Luck**

Hank stopped David and Nancy on their way out of the booth. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine." David Whitney said curtly.

Nancy smiled at Hank. "We'll be down on the dance floor, Hank."

Whitney's grip on her arm was uncomfortably tight, and it took all of Nancy's self-control not to jerk herself away from the obviously irritated man. She was a bit irritated herself, being dragged toward the dance floor like a child being taken behind the shed for a lashing.

But Nancy was politic enough to know that pissing off David Whitney was not in her, or her employer's best interests. Riley was the one who should make the final call on telling Whitney what was going on with his son-in-law. Despite the fact that it felt like the coward's way out of her current predicament, she didn't plan to tell David Whitney squat about what Phillip Colby had been up to for the last week. Not that she really knew anyway.

They reached the dance floor, and Whitney pulled her around forcefully, taking her in a stiff and formal dance hold. In the heels Nancy's eyes were level with Whitney's. At least she didn't have to deal with the disadvantage of having to look up at the irate man.

She waited patiently, meeting his cold glare with a placid expression. In her experience, anger was best met with calm.

"I told Adams to cancel the background check on Phillip. That had better not be why you're here tonight."

"My presence here tonight has nothing to do with the background check you ordered on Phillip, Mr. Whitney."

"You were aware of it, then?"

"Yes. I coordinated the surveillance portion of the work."

"So now I suppose you are just stalking my daughter and son-in-law?"

Nancy barely squelched the knee-jerk reaction to smack him. "I take offense at that, Mr. Whitney. Frank and I ran into Yvonne and Phillip at the Four Seasons, where Joe and Vanessa are currently staying. I approached Yvonne because I recognized this locket, which she was wearing at the time. It was my mother's, and had been stolen from my apartment a few nights ago. Phillip said he found it in a pawn shop, and was kind enough to return it. They then invited us up to their suite for lunch, and we all hit it off. Like I said, it had nothing to do with the background check _you_ ordered on _your_ son-in-law."

Nancy felt a grim sense of satisfaction as Whitney visibly winced at the accusation latent in her last statement.

"I apologize, but I'm sure you must realize how it appears. I assumed that you were following up on a lead regarding Phillip when you went to New York, and I had asked Mr. Adams to cancel the background check by that time."

"My business in New York had absolutely nothing to do with the background check, I assure you."

"Again, I apologize."

Nancy decided to press her advantage. "I wonder, Mr. Whitney, why did you order a background check on Phillip in the first place? And why did you cancel it before it was complete?"

Whitney forced a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You have a very forthright nature, just like your father, Ms. Drew."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Most people think I'm just nosey."

Whitney didn't dispute the statement. "I'm sure your father would understand my reasons for wanting a background check on the young man my daughter has attached herself to. I imagine he'll be asking some very probing questions about Frank Hardy when the time comes. As for why I cancelled it . . . I did so because Yvonne asked me to. She said that there were things in Phillip's past that were best left alone, and that if I was that concerned, I should sit down and talk to him. So I did."

"And what did he say that convinced you the background check was unnecessary?"

"People call you nosey, eh?" This time Whitney's smile seemed genuine. "He told me he loved my daughter. He said he would do anything to make her happy. I believe his exact words were 'I would give up my life to make Yvonne happy.' That is not the kind of devotion you see every day in a couple so young."

"Phillip adores Yvonne," Nancy said. "It's apparent every time he looks at her."

Whitney nodded, and Nancy was surprised at the teasing glint in his smile. "Not unlike when Frank looks at you . . . or you at him."

Nancy felt her cheeks color. Recognizing that Phillip likely felt about Yvonne how she felt about Frank, she was certain he would never hurt the young heiress. But there was still the issue of what Phillip was hiding, because he was hiding something, and it was something big. Unlike David Whitney, Nancy didn't think she could turn a blind eye to his past. It did raise the uncomfortable question of why she felt so driven to find the truth.

As if he knew they were talking about him, Phillip Colby tapped David on the shoulder.

"Ah, do you want to cut in, Phillip?"

Yvonne stood at Phillip's side, and smiled shyly at her father. "I would like a chance to dance with my father."

Whitney stepped back with a slight bow, and shook Nancy's hand. "I'm very glad we had this chance to talk, Ms. Drew."

David left Nancy standing there and took Yvonne's. Phillip grabbed Nancy's hand and pulled her into his arms. They began to move to the music, Phillip quickly leading Nancy them away from Yvonne and David.

"So, did you and David have a nice chat?" Phillip asked.

"Yes."

Phillip peered at her narrowly, as they danced in silence. She felt like she had been put under a microscope. Though she instinctively liked Phillip, she knew he was lying, and the contradiction was unsettling.

When he broke the silence that had stretched between them, Nancy jumped.

"You are a difficult woman to understand, Nancy Drew."

It was her turn to study him, and she decided to try a gentle prod. Maybe he was ready to talk.

She shrugged. "It's really pretty simple. I like to solve puzzles. The more difficult the puzzle, the more determined I am to solve it."

One side of Phillip's mouth lifted in a half-smile. "And I'm your latest enigma, is that it? Why?"

"Why have you been hanging around outside my apartment?" Nancy asked.

Phillip raised his eyebrows. "Because you were following me."

Nancy paused and looked up at him. He _had_ made her during the surveillance. She felt the sting of failure like a slap.

He leveled her with a steady gaze. "Turn about is fair play, after all. And I wanted to know wha . . . why you were following me."

"Then why didn't you ask me?"

"I am asking you. Why were you following me?"

"It was my job."

"David hired you, didn't he?"

"He hired the agency I work for, yes," Nancy admitted. "Didn't Yvonne tell you?"

"What were you hired to do?" Phillip's voice had a hard edge.

"I was in charge of surveillance. It was part of a comprehensive background check."

"Fuck."

Phillip took Nancy's arm and led her off the dance floor on the opposite side of the club from their booth. They moved rapidly across the seating area, and behind the booths, to a hallway that led back to the bathrooms, and a side entrance, where a bouncer stood looking formidable.

"Do you mind if the lady and I step outside for some fresh air?" Phillip asked.

The large man opened the door and let them out into an alley. The door shut, and Phillip turned to Nancy. "What do you know?"

His accent had reverted to that of a New Jersey native, and there was a definite look of desperation in Phillip's eyes.

Nancy crossed her arms and considered the man in front of her for several seconds before responding. "I don't _know_ anything . . . except that you're lying about something."

"How long is the surveillance going to continue?"

Nancy snorted. "You know, it's really kind of funny. If you hadn't started hanging around outside my apartment, you never would have seen me again, and I only would have seen you in the society pages. David cancelled the background check over a week ago, _before_ it was completed."

"He cancelled it?"

"Yes - because Yvonne asked him to."

Phillip ran his hands back through his thick blond hair, muttering to himself, "Thank God she found out about it."

"What in the hell are you hiding, Phillip?"

Phillip took Nancy's arm, and led her back to the door. He knocked, and when the door opened he slid inside past the bouncer with Nancy in tow.

They had just entered the circle of the seating area when Nancy jerked her arm out of his grip. "Phillip –"

"You need to butt out, Nancy. It's none of your goddam business anyway. I promise, I'll leave you alone if you leave me alone."

Phillip's gaze strayed in the direction of their booth, and he smirked. "We better get back to the booth. Your boyfriend is tripping because you're out of his sight."

He took her hand and led her across the dance floor toward their booth.

Nancy jerked Phillip to a stop. He gave her a frustrated glare. "Come on, I want to get you back to Frank before he decides to strangle me. Something tells me that under that placid exterior he's got one hell of a temper."

"I'm not butting out."

She steadfastly refused to move. Phillip practically crushed her when he jerked her to him to start dancing again, apparently abandoning the idea of forcing her back to the booth, but unwilling to stand there conspicuously in a standoff, either. "Dammit, Drew, are you always this bullheaded?"

"Yes, she is." Frank had appeared behind Phillip. "Is there a problem?"

"No problem," Phillip said, gaze locked on Nancy. "Nancy and I were just talking."

Hank, Yvonne and David were on Frank's heels, and Nancy was sure she caught a that same glint of desperation in Phillip's gaze before it was quickly hidden. That shaded look of his was becoming far too familiar.

"Is everything ok?" Yvonne asked.

"No, it's not," Phillip snapped. He released Nancy and backed away. "I'm going back to the booth. I believe I need a drink."

He strode away, long legs quickly carrying him toward the refuge of the booth. Yvonne watched him for several seconds. When she turned her gaze back on Nancy, it was fierce. "Where have you been? And what did you say to him?"

"Yvonne –"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter. I wish you'd just . . . go away."

She turned and ran after Phillip.

David crossed his arms. "I think you and your friends should leave, Nancy. And I would greatly appreciate it if you stayed away from all of us. I think it would be better all around."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Whitney."

"I meant what I said. I don't know what's going on between you and Phillip, but whatever it is, it ends here and now. I'll tell him the same. I hope you understand. This is my daughter's happiness we're talking about, and I won't have it threatened."

Nancy watched David Whitney push past Hank, and sighed. "Damn it. I screwed that up royally."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have butted in when I did."

"It wasn't your fault, Frank. I'm the one who pushed too hard."

"Well, I certainly didn't help the situation any."

"It was unraveling before you ever arrived." Nancy frowned, furious at herself, embarrassed, and more than a little upset that Yvonne was angry with her. She had really begun to like Yvonne, and Phillip.

Frank put an arm around her. "We should get going."

Hank gave an un-amused snort and turned to lead the way toward the booth. "Come on you two. Let's collect Liesle, Joe and Vanessa and bow out gracefully before David Whitney decides to stop being polite and have us thrown out."

*

Frank helped Joe pull the couch out into a bed. "Nancy seems to be taking tonight kind of hard. Did you notice how quiet she's been since we left the club?"

"Yeah. I don't think it helped that Yvonne had already called ahead and had her and Van's clothes waiting at the desk. She is obviously pissed."

"That was definitely a blow. No opportunity for an excuse to see Yvonne again, and try to apologize. And then the pictures were a dead end – with no identifying marks on them, I really don't think they're going to be much help."

"Liesle said she was going to scan them and send into the office. Who knows? Maybe they'll get a hit off of them." Joe shrugged. "Nan just needs to come to grips, bro."

"I'm not sure she could have done anything to make it come out differently."

"I don't think so either. Whitney didn't trust her anyway, and we knew Phillip was bound to confront her eventually. What happened, happened. Just give her time to analyze it ten ways to Sunday and she'll come to that conclusion herself."

"You're probably right."

"I know I'm right. It's one of the things you two have in common. And I've watched you do the same too many times to count."

Frank sighed. "I shouldn't have butted in when I did."

Joe threw a pillow at him across the now-made bed. "Don't you start. What's done is done. We just need to move forward from here. I think this Gaetano Mancini is who we need to focus on. Whoever he is, he's at the bottom of this whole mess. I can feel it. We need to find him."

"Agreed. I'll talk to Nan about calling Matt tomorrow. Maybe he could run a skip-trace on him, see what he can dig up."

"Who's Matt?"

"He handles all things computer-related at ADA," Frank said. "He's more of a hardware guy, but he does the internet research work, too. He's who we stopped to see earlier today."

Joe nodded. "I wonder if it wouldn't be a good idea to spend some time digging into Phillip's younger days, too. Sounds like there might be a few skeletons to unearth."

"Hopefully not literally," Frank said.

Vanessa and Nancy came walking in from the direction of the bedroom, and the brothers fell into silence as they watched them enter. Both women had changed; Vanessa was wearing a robe; and Nancy had on a huge white t-shirt.

"Hey, is that mine?" Joe asked.

"Oh, be quiet, Joseph," Vanessa said. "We decided that my night-time attire wasn't really appropriate for the living room, and your t-shirt was a good alternative."

Frank lifted one shoulder seam from where it hung half-way down Nancy's upper arm. "Jeez, it looks like you're wearing a tent, Nan."

Nancy dropped onto the desk chair and pulled her legs up to her chest – her toes didn't even peek out from under Joe's t-shirt. She shrugged, her expression introverted.

Joe pressed his lips into a thin line and considered Nancy for several seconds. Frank could see him processing her mood. Joe didn't like to see her upset anymore than he did. He braced himself mentally, knowing that Joe's tactics when trying to get someone out of a sour mood usually took a teasing tact.

Joe heaved a sigh. "Yeah, well, I only have one request - don't . . . do anything while you're wearing my shirt . . . or at least . . . don't tell me."

"Don't _do anything_ in it?" Frank cast his brother an innocent look.

Joe crossed his arms. "Don't play stupid – you know what I mean."

"Is your mind always in the gutter?" Frank asked.

Joe's gaze sought out Vanessa who still leaned in the doorway, and he gave her a warm smile. "This time of night my mind tends to stray toward more intimate thoughts – not the gutter. And don't try to pretend like your thoughts are all puritan, or something. I see the way you look at Nancy."

Frank shook his head and laughed. "Little brother, I think you have an unhealthy obsession with Nancy's and my sex life."

Joe put his hands over his ears. "Lalalalalala, I said don't tell me. I don't even want to think about it. No offense, Nan, it's just that I think of you more like a sister and . . . ick. I love ya, but not that way."

Nancy's lips had slowly turned up in a smile as the brothers ribbed each other.

"The feeling is mutual, Joe."

Frank had moved next to her, and ran a hand over her hair. "It's good to see you smile, Nan. Are you ok?"

The smile turned into a smirk. "I'm fine - just angry at myself."

Joe sat down in one of the arm chairs, and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Give me a break. You didn't do any Frank or I wouldn't have done. I don't think there was any way this evening was going to end well. Get over it."

"Thanks, I think." Nancy shook her head.

Joe grinned. "You're welcome. And, since you finally seem ready to talk, give us the scoop. What happened with David Whitney? And Phillip?"

Nancy sighed heavily, her voice resigned. "Whitney was pissed because he thought I was still running the background check _after_ he had told Riley to cancel it." She snorted. "Then he accused me of stalking Yvonne and Phillip."

Frank crouched next to her and leaned an arm on the desk chair. "What did you tell him?"

"Nothing. I told him our presence had nothing to do with the background check. I also assured him I wasn't stalking anyone. I told him we had met at the Four Seasons and just hit it off."

Joe shrugged. "Technically that's the truth."

Frank shook his head. "It's a stretch, but I can't see what purpose it could have served telling him anything different at this point - especially considering we don't really know anything."

"That was kind of my thinking," Nancy said.

Van had moved to lean on the chair behind Joe. "Where did you disappear to with Phillip?"

Joe smirked. "Yeah, where did you two go? We looked once, and you were dancing with Whitney, then the next thing we knew, you were gone. Freaked big brother out big time."

"I wasn't freaked out. I was concerned. I think Hank had me beat, anyway," Frank corrected.

"Right, he was just _concerned_," Joe said.

Nancy dropped her bare feet to the floor, and covered Frank's hand with hers. "I appreciate your _concern_, but you needn't have worried. I was right. Phillip wasn't stalking me. He had seen me following him around and wanted to know what I was up to."

She proceeded to relate the entire conversation, nearly verbatim, including noting the distinct change in accent.

"Maybe he picked the accent up hanging out in Jersey City with Guy," Joe said.

Nancy stared at Joe for several seconds before jumping to her feet. "Frank, what did you do with my cell?"

Frank stood and watched her curiously. "It's on the desk."

She snatched up her phone and dialed a number from memory. She paced back and forth waiting for her call to be answered.

"Hi. Matt, I need a favor . . . what? Oh, sorry, I didn't realize it was so late. Listen, I need you to get me everything you can find on a Gaetano Mancini." Nancy spelled the name. "And get me all the public records you can find from Phillip Colby's younger days, too . . . Yes, please email anything you find, as you find it. Thanks, Matt. You're the best."

She flipped the phone shut.

"What are you thinking, Nan?" Frank asked.

"I'm not sure, but my gut says the answer lies in Phillip's relationship with Guy Mancini. We need to find him."

Frank shook his head and looked at his brother. "And times like this, she reminds me eerily of you, little bro."

"Great minds think alike," Joe said with a wink.

Van leaned down and whispered in Joe's ear. Joe stood, stretched and yawned. "Well, it's past time for sleep. We'll see you two in the morning."

Joe closed the door as he and Van left. When Frank turned back around, Nancy was already slipping under the covers of the hideaway bed.

He moved to the side of the bed and stood there looking down at her. Her eyes were closed, dark smudges marring the smooth skin underneath them. In this light, he swore he could still detect slight shadows of bruises under her pale skin.

"You look worn out, Nan."

Her eyes fluttered opened, and he nearly caught his breath as he looked into their languid blue depths. The pleasant, tightening in his groin was becoming very familiar, and it was a relief not to have to deny it anymore. He needed Nancy - it was a need that started in his heart, and in his soul, and manifested itself in a very real and very compelling physical way.

Her lips turned up in an alluring smile. "Actually, I'm not at all tired."

Then she yawned. Frank laughed and dropped onto the bed.

"You're not very convincing, Nan."

She pushed herself to a semi-upright position, head and shoulders resting against the couch back. "I'm sorry. Three weeks on a funky swing shift schedule, then our little all-night adventure . . . and then after coming home, I was barely back into a normal routine when Bess and George came over and we stayed up half the night only to have you show up on my door step in the wee hours. Is it any wonder my sleep schedule is so screwed up?"

He looked at her tenderly. "No wonder at all."

He shifted and pulled the covers loose so he could push his feet underneath, his legs brushing against hers. Even that touch sent a thrill through him, but he knew she was exhausted. He propped himself on an elbow so he faced her.

"You really do look like you could use some sleep, Nan. It's been a long day."

He schooled his features into what he hoped was a bland expression, even though every fiber of his being wanted to fold her in his arms and become one with her.

She pouted at him. "Do you _want_ to go to sleep?"

Frank chuckled and shook his head. Maybe she wasn't as tired as he thought.

"Sweetheart, when I'm around you, particularly barely clothed, sleep is about the furthest thing from my mind."


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Sorry I'm late posting. I'm thinking a weekly posting schedule may be more doable for the next couple weeks, anyway. Next week I'll be traveling on business over Wednesday, so I know I won't be posting then, just to forewarn you. I would have posted this past Wednesday, because I had the next couple chapter drafted, but then I decided to change the POV format for fun, and had to rewrite. I like how it turned out. It's kind of nice to see the story from some new perspectives!

Thanks to those reviewed, and to those who sent private messages. I really appreciate the feedback, even if it's just a quick wink!

I don't own the Hardys or Nancy Drew. I make no money from this.

Happy reading!

**Chapter 14: Couples and Conundrums**

"I wish your dad hadn't sent them away, Vonnie. They were the most real people we've hung around since we got back in the states."

Phillip had dropped the New Canaan uptightness, adopting the Jersey accent of his younger and wilder days.

"You seemed so angry. I just wanted my happy Phillip back." Yvonne's pretty blue eyes were scrunched up, lines of worry etched deep in her clear, creamy skin.

"I just needed a drink. That's all. And if you're looking for happy Phillip . . . well he's somewhere in Europe right now."

Yvonne winced, as if slapped. "You know what I meant. I didn't realize you were that _un_happy."

He was immediately sorry for his words. He wouldn't give up being with Yvonne for anything. When he spoke again, he sounded like a New Canaan native.

"I'm not, Darling. I'm sorry I said that. It was hurtful."

"We're both just tired," Yvonne said, though her eyes were still tight with concern.

Phillip put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them gently as he dropped feather light kisses across her wrinkled brow. She slowly relaxed under his ministrations and melted into him.

He cradled her face in his large hands. "Feeling better?"

"Yes."

"Good."

*

She nearly stumbled when Phillip released her. He picked up his slacks and jacket and hung them in the valet cupboard in the door. He then went back into the bedroom to change. Yvonne followed him.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked tentatively.

"Of course."

"You promise you won't get angry?"

"I won't get angry."

Yvonne wrung her hands together. "Where did you really get the locket? And please, tell me the truth."

He pulled a white t-shirt over his head and turned to look at her. She felt her heart constrict at the look of abject guilt on his face. "You're better off not knowing, Vonnie."

"Phillip, what did you do?"

"That was _my_ mistake, and I'm going to make it right."

She followed as he left the bedroom again. Stopping at the closet, he reached into the back and pulled out a worn hoodie. "I have to go out."

"Why?"

"I just have something I gotta do."

"Phillip . . ." When he turned to look at her, what she had been about to say stuck in her throat. Instead she said the words that always made him smile. "You know how much I love my guy, right?"

Tonight, even with that, his smile seemed sad. "I know you do and I love you, too. That's what got us here, right?"

She walked up to him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "Yes. And love will keep us together."

Phillip kissed her nose. "You and your old Captain and Tennille references, Vonnie."

She reached her arms up around his neck and captured his lips in an insistent kiss. Maybe she could get him to stay.

Phillip pulled away, backing toward the door, his gaze regretful.

"I'll be back before you know it, Vonnie. I promise."

He turned and was gone.

Yvonne walked to the window and gazed out at the lights along the lakefront. In her heart, she knew Phillip Colby would never walk through that door again. She leaned her forehead against the cool pane of glass and cried.

*

"Hey, how long have you been up?"

Frank turned from the data on the computer screen to find Nancy smiling at him from the bed. Serious concentration immediately turned to warm thoughts. He stood up and moved toward her.

He smiled. "It's about time you woke up. How are you feeling this morning?"

"Everything looks brighter by the light of day." She rolled onto her side and propped her head up on a hand as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I'm glad to hear it." He leaned down and gave her a kiss.

She laced her fingers with his. "It's Sunday morning, what are you working on?"

Frank examined their joined hands for a few seconds, forcing his thoughts back to what he had been doing before she woke.

"Something about the timeline you put together yesterday was bugging me, and it dawned on me last night that it had to do with Phillip's school schedule. So I added that to the timeline."

"And . . .?"

He looked into Nancy's curious blue eyes, and once again had to force his thoughts back to the subject at hand. "And . . . unless Phillip is able to clone himself, there's no way that he could have been in school and traveling at the same time. There appear to be two Phillip Colby's contributing to our data set."

"That complicates things."

He nodded. "At this point I'm just frustrated. I don't know whether the extraneous Phillip Colby is a clue, or a distraction."

Nancy slumped back against the pillow and sighed. "Phillip Colby is a 'puzzle inside a riddle wrapped in an enigma.'"

"Thank you Mr. Churchill." Frank chuckled. "Unfortunately, I doubt Russian Nationalism is going to help us unlock the mystery to Phillip Colby."

"You're like a walking encyclopedia, Hardy. I didn't even know Winston Churchill said that, let alone that it had to do with Russian Nationalism."

"What can I say? I'm a big Churchill fan." Frank shrugged.

"You would be."

He tipped his head to the side. "I believe I hear movement out there. Joe and Van must be up."

"And I smell coffee," Nancy said. "I really need some coffee."

"Well then you better get dressed." Frank kissed her hand before releasing it to stand. "And please check your email. I want to know if Matt found anything."

"Only if you get me coffee."

Frank grinned at her. "Deal."

*

Nancy cradled the steaming cup of coffee in front of her nose and watched unseeingly as the computer booted up. She could smell bacon and knew that Van had nabbed Frank, of all people, to help her in the kitchen with breakfast. Nancy was getting the distinct impression that neither of the Hardys was capable of refusing Vanessa much of anything.

"Finally," Nancy muttered to herself as the desktop appeared on the screen. She quickly pulled up the internet, typed in her email server's address and logged in. Sure enough there were several emails from Matt, time-stamped starting only an hour or so after she had called him. It looked like he had stayed up all night working, which she knew from experience wasn't unusual. Matt was a night-owl, and did some of his best work in the wee hours of the morning.

She opened the first email to find several pictures attached, labeled 'Phillip Colby hs' followed by a number. She pulled up each picture in turn, gave it a cursory glance, and moved on to the next. The next email contained an old DMV record of Guy Mancini, including a digitized copy of his very first driver's license. Nancy zoomed in on the picture and tiled it next to a color head-shot of Phillip Colby from about the same time frame.

The two men could have been brothers. One had a more classically-angular face, the other oval and softer, but each was handsome in his own way. Something struck her as off, and she scrutinized the photos trying to identify what was niggling at her subconscious.

"Hey you. Breakfast is just about ready." Joe pushed down on the back of the office chair Nancy was sitting in, startling her.

"Watch it!" Nancy gripped the edge of the desk. Though there was really no chance of her falling, it felt like she was going to topple backward with Joe leaning on the flexible back of the chair.

"I won't let you fall, Nan." Joe said.

"Sure you won't."

He leaned forward to look at the computer screen. "Is that Phillip?"

Nancy pointed to the photo on the left. "That is Phillip." She pointed to the photo on the right. "That is Guy Mancini."

"Man, I think I'd have trouble picking one of them out of a lineup." Joe stared silently for several seconds, then started. "Hang on . . ."

Joe leaned over Nancy's shoulder, peering at the pictures closely. "Can you zoom in on the eyes?"

Nancy did as asked. Joe pointed to the one on the right. "Did you say this was Phillip?"

Nancy had to think about it, and then shook her head. "No, that's Guy. This is Phillip." She pointed to the photo on the left, and gasped – that was what had been bothering her.

"Are you two coming? I'm hungry, and Van won't let me eat until you get out here."

Nancy and Joe both turned to look at Frank. Joe motioned him over. "First you gotta see what Nan just found."

"You found," Nancy said. "I'm just running the mouse."

Frank walked over and stared at the two photos for several seconds. "Phillip and Guy, right?"

Nancy nodded. "Look at the eyes."

"They're different colors," Frank said, sounding impatient.

"Exactly," Joe said. "And Phillip's eyes aren't the blue ones."

Frank's eyebrows lifted. "Oh!"

*

Vanessa crossed her arms and glared at the three people clustered about the computer in the corner of the living room. "Breakfast is ready. Put your toys up and come eat."

Joe was grinning from ear to ear as he approached her. She couldn't help but smile, too. He looked like a kid that had just won the grand prize at the fair.

"We just cracked this case."

Frank chuckled as he followed, shaking his head. "Hardly. So we know Phillip is really Guy. That still leaves a hell of a lot of unanswered questions. Like where is the real Phillip Colby?"

Nancy nodded, bringing up the rear. "Maybe he's still overseas. That could explain why the data you were reviewing this morning was so conflicting, Frank. There _are_ two Phillip Colby's running around."

"I say we go confront Guy and find out what the hell is going on," Joe said.

They were all sitting down around the small dining table in front of the picture window. Frank's gaze narrowed at Joe's declaration, and Van suppressed a smile as the steady, thoughtful brother prepared to rein in his over-zealous sibling.

"I think we need to be careful how we approach this, or we could spook him."

Nancy's look was self-incriminating. "Maybe I already have."

Frank squeezed Nancy's hand where it lay on the table. "Let it go, Nan. There's no point in rehashing what's already done."

Vanessa glanced around the table, as Frank, Joe and Nancy all lapsed into silence, each obviously mulling over the newest discovery as they began to eat. None of them had mentioned what she was really curious about. "I only have one question. Does Yvonne know?"

All three looked up at her, but Joe spoke first.

"She almost would have to know. Phillip, I mean Guy said that when he met Yvonne he was traveling with a friend. I'd bet that friend was Guy . . . damn, I mean Phillip."

"Not necessarily," Frank said. "If they had swapped identities before meeting Yvonne, she might never have known."

Joe stopped with a fork-full of egg half-way to his mouth and grimaced. "You have a point."

There was a knock at the door, and Vanessa stood. "I'll get it."

She looked through the peephole and recognized Hank. Opening the door, she found Hank and Liesle, and both looked grim.

"We need to speak to Frank and Joe," Liesle said.

"They're just sitting down to breakfast. Can I get either of you anything? A cup of coffee?" Vanessa asked as she ushered them into the suite and closed the door behind them. She hesitated, and then pushed the failsafe lock into place. Something about the agents' expressions told her there was going to be trouble.

Vanessa sighed as she followed the agents into the dining area and retook her seat. So much for a relaxing vacation. At least she didn't have to deal with her mother's wedding planning hysteria. Somehow, Joe's penchant for trouble seemed far easier to manage at the moment.

*

Joe noted the somber looks all around when Liesle, Hank and Vanessa filed into the suite. As Van sat next to him, he put his hand over hers protectively. This trip was supposed to be about getting her away from the stress of the wedding plans, but ever since they had arrived in Chicago, they had been mired in the mystery surrounding Phillip Colby.

Frank looked up at the agents, his expression edgy. "What's wrong?"

"I just received word from the office," Liesle said. "Guy Mancini has connection to the DeCavalcante family."

Joe's eyes swiveled to catch his brother's in a knowing look. That might explain why he had been asking so many questions about the Bucciano brothers.

"How is he connected?" Frank asked evenly.

"Guy Mancini's father, Giuseppe Mancini, was a two-bit hustler in Jersey City, and apparently worked indentured servitude to the DeCavalcantes, who held all the markers for his gambling debts," Hank said.

"Giuseppe died still owing the family a boat-load of money," Liesle continued.

Joe crossed his arms, hands balled into tight fists. This kind of scenario infuriated him. "And the sins of the father become the sins of the son."

"Pretty much," Hank said.

"We would like to move all of you to a duplex suite in another hotel," Liesle said firmly.

"Why?" Joe asked.

"We suspect Guy and Phillip are closely connected. Since Phillip knows where you are, Guy could find out. It would be safer if that were not the case."

Joe sat forward. "First of all, I'll catch you up – Phillip isn't Phillip, he is Guy. So Guy already knows, and has for the last 24 hours."

Liesle's eyebrows raised a fraction, and Joe took some satisfaction knowing that he had revealed a fact that the FBI had apparently missed.

"All the more reason to move you," Liesle said, calm but still firm.

"Why? Because you think _Guy_ is after _us_?" Joe motioned between himself and Frank, and shook his head adamantly. "No way. He isn't the bad guy here, he's the victim."

"Even if that's the case, Joe," Liesle's voice was carefully controlled. "The fact remains that the mob has a big hammer over his head. He's a pinch hitter and we have no idea which side he's batting for."

Joe sat back, fuming. He was certain Guy wasn't a threat. Not only that, he was convinced Guy was in far greater danger than either him or Frank. Couldn't they see that?

"I think what Joe is trying to say is that we need to go talk to Guy and find out what is going on before we jump to conclusions about him being a hit man for the mob," Nancy said.

Frank nodded. "That does seem like a more rational course of action. Personally, I would like to get to the bottom of this rather than picking up and moving." He stood. "Since this isn't protective custody, I assume the final decision is up to us."

Hank's teeth ground audibly, arms crossed, stance tense as he glared at Frank. "This isn't a game. You've done everything possible to make this assignment a pain in the ass."

Frank locked eyes with the agent. "Then leave. I didn't ask for FBI babysitters. I trust my brother's instincts. Guy is the victim in this case. In fact, I would wager Bucciano came to Chicago after Guy in the first place. I mean, he arrived before Joe or I ever got here."

"You're putting an awful lot of faith in unsubstantiated theories here, Frank." Hank said angrily.

Joe stood to back up his brother. "Listen, Frank and I have established a certain level of trust with Guy. All we're asking for is a chance to talk to him and try to figure out what the hell is going on. I really don't believe he's a threat to either one of us."

Hank's gaze was unrelenting, but Liesle put a calming hand on his arm, and stepped forward.

"We'll escort you up to the Presidential Suite. I want you to understand one thing, if we weren't concerned about what happened to you, we wouldn't still be here. Our recommendations are always given with the intent of keeping you safe."

Frank pursed his lips, and looked at Hank. "I was out of line. I'm just . . . tired of being under a freaking microscope. I'm sorry, Hank." He held out his hand.

Hank heaved a deep breath, and shook the offered hand. "I imagine it's not much fun to have a couple ghosts stuck to you when you're trying to visit your girlfriend. I just want to make sure we're smart about this. No unnecessary risks."

Joe laughed. "I think you better define 'unnecessary.'"


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Thanks, as always, to those who reviewed the last chapter. I am going to stick with four POVs – Joe's POV is a must moving forward in the story, and Van's POV is kind of fun to stick in as she observes what's going on around her and begins to get involved. I hope you read and enjoy, and if you do, please review.

I don't own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys, and I make no money from this.

Happy reading

**Chapter 15: Fight and Flight**

"You two should go talk to Guy without me. My presence will just make him clam up." Nancy left the rest of her reason for not going unspoken. She was certain that Frank and Joe would do better with Guy on their own – in more ways than one.

Frank ran his hands back through his hair. It was a sure sign of frustration, and she knew it was directed at her, but she still found the gesture endearing.

He kept his voice calm and rational, as always, "Guy is going to be on-guard anyway, whether you're there or not, Nan. The more observers we have the better, because he's obviously practiced at lying."

Joe cleared his throat. "I hate to get involved in this argument, but I think my big brother has a point, Nancy."

She pressed her lips into a thin line as she considered the bothers for several seconds before responding, "Well, I'm not going. You two are more then capable of handling it without me."

One long step brought Frank toe to toe with her, his gaze unyielding. "This self-doubt act is not like you, Drew. Get a grip and come with us."

Nancy struggled to keep her lips from turning up at the corners, returning his gaze with what she hoped was an equally-severe one. "This isn't about me doubting myself. I really do think it would be best for you and Joe to go alone. Besides, I want to dig through the rest of the files that Matt sent. Divide and conquer – it's the most efficient use of our resources." She knew the efficiency angle was a good selling point for the ever-logical Frank.

They stared at each other in a silent battle of wills. It took all of Nancy's concentration to maintain her determined stance and stern expression when she was looking into Frank's warm brown eyes.

Joe's amused grunt ended the impasse. "Give it up, bro. She's made up her mind."

Frank spun away. "This is stupid."

Nancy cocked an eyebrow at him. "_I'm_ stupid?"

When Frank turned to look at her again, his gaze was apologetic. "I didn't mean you're stupid. I'm talking about this entire situation. Colby freaked last night because you were getting too close, and Whitney and Yvonne flew off the handle about it. The fact is that you didn't do anything wrong, Nan."

Nancy walked up to him and gave him a light kiss.

"I'm glad you clarified that," she said, and then added, quietly, "I'm fine. Really, this isn't about what happened last night."

Frank's gaze had softened, and he leaned down and returned the kiss more firmly, and then turned to his brother.

"Come on, Joe. We better get up there and see what we can find out before Liesle changes her mind about this."

Joe's path to follow Frank toward the door veered close to Nancy. "I know what you're doing, Nan."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Joe."

Joe grinned and shook his head. "Thanks, anyway."

As the door shut behind the brothers, Nancy's attention turned to Vanessa, who stood, hands on hips, head shaking. "Nancy Drew, you are sly."

"I'll clean up the breakfast dishes, since you made the meal," Nancy said.

"Come on, Nan, give me a hint. I mean, I like that you got them working together again – it's been awhile, and I know Joe misses it – but that doesn't mean you have to bow out."

"I did that because they're good when they work together," Nancy said as she started gathering the dirty dishes. "Frank and Joe were literally born to be partners, and all I'm doing is getting in the way. Eventually, despite himself, Frank would resent me if I came between them. I'm not stupid. A little lovesick, and soft in the head, maybe, but not stupid."

Vanessa started to package the leftovers. "No, you are definitely not stupid. Though I believe we already discussed this – you are not coming between them, Nancy. You're just throwing a new dynamic into the Hardy Brother's relationship. It's one they are both going to have to come to grips with eventually."

Nancy nodded. "It's not that I don't agree with you, Van. I just think it might be a lot easier to come to grips with it in New York rather than Chicago."

"And what does Frank think about that?" Van asked.

"I don't know, yet. Every time we manage to get some time alone, well . . ." Nancy could feel the heat creep up her face. "Let's just say that talk seems to be the last thing either of us is interested in."

Vanessa started laughing. "Now I understand the problem!"

*

Though Nancy protested, Vanessa insisted on helping her set the kitchen back in order. It didn't take long with both of them working on it. When they were done, Van could tell her friend was anxious to get to the computer, but she was surprised when Nancy turned to her.

"Are you interested in taking a look through the information that Matt sent? I'd love the help. Frank's right, the more eyes looking at it, the better."

Van shrugged. "Sure. I don't know if I'll be much help, but I think I'm as curious to find out what's going on as you are."

"It's hard not to get sucked in, isn't it?" Nancy grinned as she led the way to the desk in the corner.

Nancy pulled up her email, and whistled. "Matt's been busy. There is a lot more here to wade through then when I checked earlier."

Van smiled in anticipation. Usually Joe kept her at arms length from his work. She knew he was just trying to protect her, but still, she was always curious. "Well then I guess we better get started."

"Let me catch you up on what we've learned so far."

Nancy quickly reviewed the timeline she and Frank had put together with Van, and then handed her the family history document that Frank had printed out.

"I'm not sure that's really going to do us any good, seeing as how Phillip is really Guy, but you might want to skim it. I think Frank added the pertinent stuff from Phillip's teen years to the timeline already anyway," Nancy said.

Van shook her head. "When I first met him, I thought Joe's work was all about midnight chases, and fights and excitement, but the more I learn, the more I realize just how much boring grunt work is involved."

Nancy chuckled. "There is a lot about investigative work that can be kind of boring, but it's all about following the leads you have as you try to unravel the mystery. It's like a glorified game of twenty questions, only there's no limit on the number of questions, and sometimes, hopefully infrequently, you do end up on the wrong end of a gun."

"Like you and Frank did last weekend?" Van had spent her time with Laura and Carson Drew, hoping for the best while they waited for word from Fenton and Joe. She hated the feeling of impotence she always had in those situations. Luckily, they were fairly few and far between.

Nancy grimaced. "I suppose. Frank and I were both caught unaware. I guess that's another lesson in detective work - never let down your guard."

Vanessa tossed the history aside. "I'll look at that later. Let's see what Matt has sent that's new and interesting."

"Sounds good to me!"

*

Frank knocked on the door of the Presidential Suite and took a step back to stand next to Joe. Hank and Liesle hovered near the elevators watchfully. They had agreed, reluctantly, to not accompany Frank and Joe to the suite, but the deal was that they were to conduct the interview at the door.

Frank was surprised when David Whitney opened the door. As soon as Whitney recognized them, his gaze turned cold and hard. "I told you to stay away. Is that difficult to understand?"

"But, sir –," Frank started.

Yvonne's voice sounded from behind Whitney. "Who is it, Daddy?"

The watery tone of the voice indicated a lengthy crying jag. Frank grimaced as he recognized the situation was not at all favorable for them to talk to Guy.

"It is Frank and Joe Hardy, Darling." Whitney's eyes bored into Frank's, and then Joe's. "They were just leaving."

But Yvonne pushed past her father, "You! This is entirely your fault. You and Nancy Drew. I wish I had never met any of you!"

She launched at Joe, who was the closer target, and he caught her forearms to keep her from scratching at him. Frank moved to intercept Whitney, and motioned Liesle and Hank to stay put. It took Joe very little time to subdue Yvonne, pinning her arms at her side. She continued to struggle, but couldn't escape the vice-like grip Joe had on her.

Whitney glared at Frank, who now stood between him and his daughter. "Let go of my daughter, young man."

"I'd be more than happy to if she'd stop trying to scratch my eyes out," Joe said in exasperation.

Frank placed a restraining hand in the middle of the angry man's chest. "Hang on. We just came up here to talk. What is going on that has you two so up in arms?"

Yvonne suddenly collapsed in Joe's arms, all of the fight seemingly evaporated.

"He's gone!" She wailed.

Joe cradled the distraught young woman, and cast a worried look in Frank's direction.

Frank asked, "Phillip left?"

Whitney shifted back into the doorway and nodded stiffly. "Last night. Said he had to go out to take care of something, and hasn't returned."

"Did he say where he was going?" Joe asked.

"No." Whitney's tone was curt. "You may as well come inside so we can get this circus out of the hallway."

Joe ended up carrying Yvonne back into the suite. Whitney waved him toward the bedroom. "She needs to rest. She's been up all night worrying."

While Joe disappeared into the bedroom, Frank squared off with a still-fuming David Whitney.

"Did Phillip give any indication at all of where he might be going?" Frank asked.

"None. Yvonne said he was upset that I sent you all away. But all he said was that he needed to go out because there was something he had to do. He was no more specific then that."

"Do you think he's still in Chicago?"

"I would imagine. The east coast is the only other home he knew, and I can't imagine why he would go there. His parents were both only children. His grandparents had passed long ago. He has no extended family to speak of. Yvonne was his life."

Frank considered the man for several seconds. He had just spouted Phillip's history, but what about Guy? Did David Whitney realize his son-in-law was a fraud?

Frank asked, "I understand he had a very good friend in Jersey City – a Guy Mancini? Do you think he could have gone to see him?"

Whitney's eyebrows lifted. "I never heard Phillip mention him. What does he have to do with anything?"

Frank pursed his lips, wondering if Yvonne was as clueless about true identity as her father obviously was. When he glanced toward the bedroom, he saw Joe closing the doors. He took a deep breath, and decided he should probably keep Whitney occupied while his brother talked to Yvonne in private.

"I don't know, sir. I'm just trying to figure out where Phillip could be. Would you mind sitting down with me so we can review everything you know about him. That will help us come up with a list of possible places to start looking for him."

Whitney gave Frank a calculating look, and then nodded. "You and your brother are investigators like Ms. Drew, is that right? If you think you can find Phillip, I'd be willing to pay you."

"That isn't necessary, sir."

"I expect you to take this seriously, young man, and everyone is more serious when there is money on the line. I am willing to pay you $150 per hour plus travel expenses - each. That should be more than fair."

Frank sighed. "Sir, if we could just sit down and talk about Phillip. If Joe and I are able to find him, we can talk about compensation then – right now, time is what's important, and the sooner we get moving the warmer the trail will be."

Whitney gave a stiff nod. "Very well. What do you need to know?"

*

Joe laid Yvonne on the bed, and then looked around for tissues. The sobbing had given way to soft hiccups, and when he turned around to hand her the box he had found, she was staring at him, eyes wide.

"You know, don't you?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Joe pulled a couple tissues out of the box and pressed them into her hand. He kept his voice low.

"That Phillip is really Guy?"

Yvonne nodded.

"Yes, we know. We weren't sure if you knew. Why - ?"

She reached a hand out and covered Joe's mouth. "Please, close the door. Daddy doesn't know."

Joe did as instructed, then pulled a chair up beside the bed. Yvonne pushed herself up against the headboard, and blew her nose daintily.

Joe leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Alright, Yvonne. Maybe you should start at the beginning."

Tears threatened to spill over. "The beginning? You mean when I first met Phillip and Guy, or when I forced Guy to turn into something he isn't."

"Let's start with when you met Phillip and Guy," Joe suggested.

Yvonne dabbed at her eyes and sniffled. "I met Guy and Phillip in Paris at the Louvre. I had been surrounded by the French culture for over a year by that time, and I was thrilled to meet a couple of young men from back home. We hit it off, and I went to dinner with them. The next day, they met me at the Arc de Triomphe and I spent the day showing them the sights of Paris. Phillip was fascinated, and incredibly attentive – a true gentleman."

A slight smile curved her lips. "Guy, on the other hand, was bored stiff, and more than a tad rude. Nut I have to admit, I found him far more interesting than Phillip. I suppose it had to do with the whole bad-boy attitude. And perhaps a bit to do with the fact that he all but ignored me. Daddy says I've always enjoyed a challenge."

As she lapsed into silence, Joe decided a gentle prod was in order. "I understand you left the Sorbonne to go traveling with them."

"Yes. I never went back to the Sornonne after that second day. They were staying at a local hostel. Guy disappeared in the late afternoon, and left Phillip and I alone. We went to the Jardin Du Luxembourg and spent several hours just talking. Then he took me back to their hostel and we had bread and cheese and bottle of wine for dinner, and continued talking until early in the morning. I had never met anyone so easy to talk to. Phillip understood what I was going through with my father. He was the one that convinced me I should leave Paris and come traveling with them. He said that I needed to learn to live my own life."

She shook her head, her expression self-loathing. "That sounds so hypocritical considering what I forced Guy into."

"I'm confused," Joe said. "You spent time with Phillip? Where was Guy?"

Yvonne's gaze darkened. "He was gone until morning."

"Where had he been?"

Yvonne looked away. "I don't know. It wasn't unusual. Guy would disappear every few nights. We traveled together for nearly two months before I got up the nerve to ask what he was doing."

Joe leaned forward. "And . . .?"

The bedroom door slammed open, and Yvonne's father looked at them, his gaze swinging between Joe and Yvonne.

Yvonne spoke before Whitney could gather his thoughts. "Daddy, I think we should hire Frank and Joe to help us find Phillip."

Her father's gaze softened, and he nodded. "I've already spoken to Frank about just such an arrangement, Darling. If you feel up to it, we were going to discuss what we know of Phillip, to help them develop a plan of attack for finding him."

"Certainly. I'll be out in a moment."

Whitney turned and strode out, and Yvonne stood. Joe let out a groan of frustration.

Yvonne smiled and put a hand on Joe's arm. "Joe, please don't tell Daddy. We'll go through what we know of Phillip. Later, I'll sneak out and come down to your suite and tell you everything. . ."

"Are you coming, Darling?" Whitney's worried face appeared at the door again.

"Yes, I'm fine Daddy."

Yvonne squeezed Joe's arm, and walked to her father, who led her solicitously to the couch. Joe ground his teeth and followed. He hated having to wait to find out what Yvonne knew, but there wasn't much choice if they were to keep up the deception in front of David Whitney.

It was a good thing Frank was good at this kind of subterfuge. Joe was planning on just sitting there and biting his tongue for the next half hour or so until they could escape the pretense of looking for Phillip Colby, and get to the reality of looking for Guy Mancini.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Thanks so much to those who reviewed. I really appreciate it – keeps me writing! I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

I don't own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys or any of the related characters. The OCs are all mine, for better or worse.

**Chapter 16: Ether and the Ethereal**

"Nancy Drew, you are in big trouble!"

Nancy held the phone away from her head, and met Vanessa's amused look with a grimace.

When she thought it was safe, Nancy raised the cell phone back to her ear. "What did I do now, Bess?"

In the background on Bess' end of the conversation Nancy could hear George asking, "Has she even seen the paper today? She probably doesn't know what in the world you're talking about Bess."

"She most certainly does. I mean, what person would go out clubbing with Chicago's most famous socialite and not invite her best friends along?"

Bess' tone was light and teasing, but Nancy detected an undercurrent of hurt that made her feel guilty. "I'm sorry Bess. It wasn't really a social outing."

"Well, you sure were dolled up for work then," Bess said.

Finally the implication of what Bess and George were saying dawned. Nancy jumped up from the chair and began pacing. "Wait a minute? How do you know what I was wearing? Did George say something about the paper?"

"Yes, little Ms. Social Outing, the paper. The Chicago Tribune Society pages to be exact. There is a picture of you and Frank ducking into a stretch limo right next to a picture of Yvonne Whitney-Colby posing with new hubby, Phillip Colby. The photos are accompanied by a fascinating speculative article about why New York's premier detective might be clubbing with Chicago's most mysterious new couple. Gorgeous dress, by the way, Nan. I bet you knocked Frank's socks off in that slinky little number."

Nancy stopped and turned to Van, who was watching her with interest. She covered the mouthpiece and filled Van in, "Apparently there's an article and pictures in the Tribune from our outing last night."

"Really?" Van jumped up and headed toward the suite entry. "There was a copy of the Tribune left outside the door this morning. I think Joe brought it in."

Speaking into the phone, Nancy tried to placate her friend. "It's a long story, Bess, but you have to believe me, it wasn't a social outing. In fact, we were practically tossed out of the club later that evening."

"Oooo, girl, I want details."

Nancy sighed. "I'll tell you all about it next time I see you. I'm kind of tied up right now."

"Are you and Frank and Joe working some sort of case, Nan?" It was George's voice this time. Nancy could picture the two cousins on the other end of the line fighting over the phone.

She heard the tell-tale tone that said Bess had put it on speaker. "We can both talk to you, now, Nan. Even though _George_ told me I shouldn't call and bother you. Now, what is going on? Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Got it." Van waved the folded newspaper, and hurried to the couch.

"Hang on a sec, guys," Nancy said. She put her phone on speaker, too. "Bess, George, Vanessa Bender, Joe's fiancé is here with me."

Nancy set her phone on the coffee table, as Vanessa extracted the Society section and spread it out. Nancy dropped onto the couch next to Van and began skimming the article.

Van grinned. "Hi Bess. Hi George. I've heard a lot about both of you."

"Hello, Vanessa, you lucky girl. I have been absolutely dying to meet you since Nan told me you managed to tie down the handsome, flirtatious Joseph Hardy. You must be some kind of lady," Bess said.

"Hi, Vanessa, it's nice to . . . well, kind of meet you. Don't mind my cousin, she's just jealous. Nan, where are you?" George asked.

"Frank and I stayed at the Four Seasons last night with Joe and Van."

"Are Frank and Joe there with you?" Bess asked.

Van had been skimming the article with Nancy, and shook her head, a grim smile on her face. "This is not going to make Frank happy.

"No, it's not," Nancy agreed.

"Are you still there?" Bess prompted impatiently.

Van chuckled. "Sorry, Bess. Frank and Joe aren't here at the moment. They went to talk to Phillip and Yvonne and try to . . . mend fences after last night's misunderstanding."

Nancy muttered, "Oh, I don't think there was any misunderstanding."

There was a beep on the line, and Nancy picked the phone up to check the caller identification. 'Unknown.' Frank's tracfone showed up as 'Unknown.'

Nancy spoke hastily into the phone, "Bess, George, I'll have to call you back."

She pressed the send button. "Hello? This is Nancy."

"Nancy, thank God. Listen, don't hang up. I'm sorry about last night, and I really need your help."

It wasn't the familiar male voice Nancy had expected, but she recognized it.

"Phillip? Where are you?"

Vanessa stared at Nancy in shock. As Phillip, or rather Guy pretending to be Phillip, rushed on. "That's not important. I need you to have Frank and Joe, and those two FBI agents that follow them everywhere go to Yvonne. I think she might be in danger."

Nancy took a deep breath. "They're already up at the Presidential suite –"

"Oh my God! What's wrong? What happened?"

"Calm down, Guy. Nothing is wrong. They went up there to talk to you."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Nancy bit her lip, and Vanessa found herself wondering if Nancy had made a mistake tipping 'Phillip' off that they knew he wasn't Phillip.

The worry in Nancy's expression told Van she was wondering the same thing, as she prompted him, again.

"Guy?"

A few more seconds of silence, then a resigned, "I'm here. When did you figure it out?"

Nancy's relief was palpable. "Just this morning. Guy, we think _you_ may be the one in danger. We really want to help-"

"There's nothing you can do for me. I'll survive, I always do. But you have to promise me you'll keep Yvonne safe. If they decide they can use her against me, we're both screwed."

"By 'they,' you mean the DeCavalcante family?"

"What else do you know?" Guy's voice was suspicious.

Nancy glanced at Vanessa, who nodded. She'd gone this far. Maybe if she showed Guy some trust, she would get some in return. It was worth a try.

Vanessa watched as Nancy closed her eyes for a moment, as if looking into her head and organizing the facts she had gathered about the man on the phone. When her eyes opened, there was an intensity in them that reminded Van of Joe.

"I'll tell you what I know, and what I guess, and you can tell me how close I am. I know you met Yvonne while you were traveling in France with Phillip. I know that at some point, you and Phillip traded identities. I know that your father, and by association you, have a large gambling debt to the DeCavalcante family. I'm guessing you traded identities with Phillip so you could come back to the states with Yvonne without tipping off the DeCavalcante family that you were back within reach. I'm guessing that they figured out you were back and sent Bucciano to retrieve you so they could get what they think you owe them. Is that the basic gist of the story?"

"Yeah, you got the bare bones about right," Guy said. "Goddam mob can't let a man's gambling debt die with him. My father never gave me a fucking thing worth having. So you know. Are you going to tell Vonnie's father?"

Nancy's shoulders slumped. "It's not my place to tell him, Guy. That's between you and Yvonne. But right now, I think you need to get back here and let us sort out how to handle this mess. Where are you, anyway?"

"I'll handle it my own way," Guy said. "They want their money, they can have it. I just want to be left the fuck alone. I'm finishing this. Now. Tell Vonnie I'll be back before she knows it. And . . . tell her I love her."

The line went dead. Nancy picked up the phone and closed it. She stared at it for several seconds before flipping it open and placing a phone call.

"Matt, I need you to run a trace for me."

The responding voice on the other end was sleepy and disgruntled. Vanessa grinned when she saw the grim line of Nancy's mouth slowly turn up in a smile as Matt vented at her.

"What the hell, Nan? You get me up in the middle of the night, have me work all night long, and then wake me up at ten a.m., after I _just_ went to bed, to run a trace for you? You do realize it's the weekend, right?"

"I'll owe you big time, Matt. I just had a call on my cell from an unknown number. Do you think you can tell me where it originated?"

"Not asking much, are you? Your ADA cell?"

"Yes," Nancy provided the cell number.

"I know your damn number, Nan," Matt grumbled.

They could hear movement on the other end of the line. "You said you just got the call?"

"Yes. Hung up just before I called you."

"Give me a minute." They could hear Matt's skilled fingers tapping rapidly on the keyboard, interspersed with a muttered narrative laced with expletives.

"That cell is currently in JFK International in New York."

"Can you get me the number?"

"Silly question." Matt spouted the number, and Nancy shuffled about for a pen. Van jumped up and retrieved a pen from the desk.

She came back, as Nancy said, "Could you repeat that?"

Van scribbled the number on the corner of the newspaper.

"Thanks a million, Matt. Now go on back to sleep."

"I might actually get regular sleep if it weren't for you," Matt muttered.

Nancy grinned. "You know you love me."

"You're lucky I do, Nan."

"Good night, Matt." Nancy closed the phone.

"Now what?" Van asked. "I mean, we can't very well let Guy go face those awful mobsters alone, can we?"

Nancy's responding chuckle was dry. "You want to run out to New York and rescue him, Van?"

"We have to do something!" Van insisted.

"Yes, we have to do something," Nancy agreed.

Her phone chirped again, and Nancy stared at it like it was a buzzing fly. Vanessa laughed when she saw who was calling and opened the phone, which was still on speaker. "Nancy's phone, this is Vanessa speaking."

"Were you going to call us back? It's been like fifteen minutes already." Bess sounded exasperated.

"We've been kind of busy," Nancy said.

"And now, we have an emergency. You and George should come join us at the Four Seasons, Bess. We're in suite 4435."

Bess squealed. "Oh, we'll be right over!"

Frank slumped against the elevator wall and heaved a sigh of relief. Liesle and Hank remained unobtrusive in the background. But Joe's barely-contained energy eddied around him like an invisible tide, and he was tired of resisting the pull.

"Yvonne is going to ditch her dad and come down to give us the real scoop later," Joe bounced on the balls of his feet facing Frank.

"You're just lucky David Whitney didn't figure out something was up the way you fidgeted through the interview, little brother. You were practically screaming 'this is a waste of time' the way you kept shifting around."

"You just know me too well, Frank." Joe grinned at him.

The rest of the short elevator ride passed in silence. They arrived at the suite and found not only Nancy and Vanessa, but also Bess and George.

Liesle answered her phone as they walked in the door, and Frank strained to hear the conversation when he heard her say, 'Hello Dan' but she quickly reverted to affirmative or negative grunts, and he gave up. The four young women conversing animatedly in the living room hadn't yet noticed their arrival, but Frank knew that wouldn't last.

The look on Joe's face was enough to crack Frank up, but he managed to maintain his impassive stance. At least until his brother turned to him and hissed, "What is Bess doing here?"

Hank snorted. "I'd say the balance of power in this suite has shifted dramatically. Good luck you two."

Hank's condolences were the final straw and Frank gave up trying to control it. He nearly doubled-over laughing. The sound drew the attention of the group in the living room, and Joe's face paled noticeably, causing Frank to laugh harder.

Liesle plucked at Hank's arm, beckoning him out into the hallway. Even through his mirth Frank found himself wondering just what Dan Jarvi was saying that had them looking so serious.

"Joseph Hardy, it has been too long."

Bess Marvin had not changed at all since the last time Joe had seen her. Pretty and pert with an impish smile that could charm a rattle snake, he knew she could get him into big trouble. He glanced at Vanessa to gage her reaction, and was nonplussed by the teasing gleam he saw in her eyes. Damn, he was never going to live this down.

It wasn't that he hadn't thought they would never meet, but under controlled circumstances, preferably where he was in control. Laughing helplessly next to him, Frank was obviously going to be no help in this situation.

Vanessa walked up to him and gave him a peck on the cheek. "As much as Bess and I would love to sit down and tease . . . ah, talk with you. We have a bit of a situation on our hands."

Joe glanced over and saw that his brother had sobered rather suddenly. Nancy stood in front of him, squeezing one of his hands, her expression serious.

Stepping toward them, he looked at Nancy in shock. "Did you say Phillip called you?"

Nancy nodded, and quickly and concisely relayed the content of the conversation. As she talked they moved into the living room. Bess and Van sat on either end of the couch, and Bess patted the space between them invitingly. Instead, Joe pulled the desk chair over next to the end of the couch Van was sitting on, as the two women exchanged amused glances. Joe sighed, trying to concentrate as Nancy wrapped up her narrative.

Frank leaned over the coffee table. "What the hell? 'New York to Chicago – Hardy delving into the mystery of Yvonne Whitney's new hubby?' You have to be kidding me."

Nancy took his arm, the vaguely amused smile on her face off-set by the worry in her eyes. "You knew our pictures were taken last night. The article is actually pretty interesting."

Frank slumped into the arm chair, shaking his head.

Joe smirked at his brother's expression. "Paybacks are hell, bro. The headline is actually almost prescient. I mean, David and Yvonne did just hire us to find Phillip."

"Actually, I think it would be more accurate to say that David hired us to find Phillip. Yvonne hired us to find Guy," Frank said.

"Well, at least we know Guy's general whereabouts," Nancy said.

Joe found his thoughts wandering as he watched Nancy perch on the arm of Frank's chair, her arm draped casually across his shoulders. Frank had an arm snaked around her waist, his hand resting on her thigh. Joe had to admit to himself that their easy intimacy still caught him off-guard. He was surprised, but also gratified by how quickly Nancy and Frank had become comfortable in their new relationship.

He squeezed Van's shoulders and considered how cool it would be to have them living in New York, near enough to see on a daily basis. He wanted that so badly he could taste it – wanted to work with Frank as his partner, be close enough to see him and Nancy regularly. It was an almost tangible fear that that wouldn't happen that kept him from truly enjoying this trip to Chicago.

Nancy's voice shook him from his disjointed thoughts. "So what did you two learn besides the fact that Yvonne knows Phillip is Guy, and David doesn't?"

"I didn't learn anything else," Frank said. "Joe was the one that talked to Yvonne."

Joe pulled a face at his brother. "Well, if you had kept David occupied a little while longer I might have learned something useful. As it was, all she managed to tell me before David broke in was enough to confirm that she met Phillip and Guy in Paris, and started traveling with them."

"She met them as themselves?" Nancy asked.

"Yes," Joe said. "She said Phillip was the one who convinced her to travel with them. Apparently, he told her she needed to learn to live her own life. It bothered her given what she said she forced Guy into. I didn't really get to delve into the whole story. Hopefully she'll be able to ditch her dad and get down here to fill us in."

Frank nodded. "I think that information might be helpful before we go running to Jersey City to track down Guy. I have a feeling he's not going to be easy to find."

"What about Yvonne?" Nancy asked. "I think Guy has a valid concern about her safety."

"I agree," Van said. "If they nab her, they could probably get Guy to do just about anything."

Joe felt sick to his stomach imagining what Guy was going through. His arm tightened impulsively around his fiancé's soulders. "There's the voice of experience. We definitely need to make sure Yvonne doesn't fall into the wrong hands while we go looking for Guy."

"So once again we divide and conquer," Nancy said. "You two should head to New York and I'll stay here and keep an eye on Yvonne. Hopefully I can convince her to stay in and keep a low profile for a couple days."

"We could help out, Nan," George suggested.

"Oh, definitely, we'd love to help," Bess said.

Nancy didn't seem to have heard her friends' offer of help, her attention focused on Frank. Joe noted his brother's clenched jaw and tense shoulders.

Leaning down, Nancy spoke quietly to Frank, "You can't argue with the division of work, Frank. I'm licensed in Illinois, not New York, and reciprocity is iffy at best. You know this is what makes sense."

"I didn't say I didn't agree," Frank said. "It's just . . . it doesn't matter."

"Frank –" Nancy started.

He squeezed her hand and flashed her a tight smile before catching Joe's eye. "I'm wondering if we should head out as soon as we can get a flight. Nan can relay whatever information Yvonne is able to provide. We know where Guy is, and the longer we wait, the harder it's going to be to pick up his trail."

Nancy stood up. "I'll call Riley and see if he's alright with you taking the company charter. It will be quicker then going commercial."

Joe jumped up. "Cool, can I drive?"

_**Please review!**_


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: I actually got a couple chapters ahead this weekend, so here's a bonus chapter. Enjoy!

Oh, usual disclaimers, I own nothing, make no money, yada, yada, yada . . .

**Chapter 17: Plots and Plans**

Vanessa helped as Nancy tried to let Joe down as gently as possible regarding getting to 'drive' the charter jet. That job would be left to the pilot and copilot.

"Fine, I'll just ride. It's a private jet, right? One of those fancy ones, maybe with an on-board bar?"

Joe's expression went from churlish pout to hopeful grin in the brief span of the statement. Vanessa shook her head in amusement, and nudged Bess. The two women looked at each other knowingly and giggled.

Nancy crossed her arms and gazed at Joe with the same tolerant expression that his older sibling often directed at him. "Yes, it's one of those fancy air-o-planes with a private bar – stocked entirely with bottled water and pop."

"You mean soda?" Joe's return grin was teasing.

"You're in the Midwest now, Joe. It's called pop." Nancy turned toward the desk. "I'll make your flight arrangements, one way or the other. And I better call Riley, or he's going to be pissed at me."

An irritated look crossed his face, and then Joe shifted, his gaze straying toward the door. Vanessa recognized the impatience patent in his entire demeanor.

Joe nudged his brother. "I'm going upstairs to get Yvonne and bring her down here. Everyone knows she and Phillip checked into the Presidential suite at the Four Seasons – she's like a sitting duck up there."

Frank sighed. "And tell me, how do you plan to explain to David why you're spiriting his daughter away? You can't tell him about the mob connection without blowing Guy's cover."

"I'll tell him that Yvonne should be with her girlfriends right now, and that Nan and Van are waiting to comfort her."

"And if David wants to come?" Frank asked.

"No, he has to stay in the suite, in case Phillip calls." Joe grinned triumphantly.

Frank shrugged, a slight smile on his face. "You, little brother, might be able to pull that story off."

"I guess I'll go test that theory." Joe grinned and headed out the door.

"What can we do to help?" George asked.

Turning from the desk, Nancy said, "I could really use some clean, comfortable clothes, and all of Frank's things are back at my apartment, too."

"If we're leaving you here to watch out for Yvonne, you're going to need your weapon, too," Frank said tightly.

Nancy pressed her lips into a thin line. "Riley already lectured me."

Frank smirked. "I'm liking Riley more and more." He pulled out his cell. "If we're headed to New York, I'm going to have to make a couple phone calls myself."

"We can go pick up your things." George jumped up from the chair, obviously anxious to do something useful. She grabbed Bess' arm. "Come on, Bess. Let's go."

While Nancy gave the cousins instructions on what to gather from her apartment, Frank walked out of the room. Van could tell something was bothering him, and she had a feeling she knew what it was. She followed him into the kitchen and found him leaning against the counter fingering his cell phone.

Vanessa waited until Bess and George breezed through on their way out the door, and then walked over and leaned against the counter next to him. In the next room, they could hear Nancy talking on the phone.

Van nudged Frank and spoke quietly. "Hey. Just call him. Carson will understand."

"I know he will," Frank said.

"Then what's wrong?"

Frank pursed his lips. "I guess I'm just wondering if it isn't a sign, Van. I'm pushing, and probably way too fast. I'm going to spook her."

Van chuckled. "First of all, I know for a fact you don't believe in 'signs.' And second of all, we talked about this while Nan was in the shower, and I thought we all agreed that it was the right thing for you to do. Don't second-guess your decision, Frank. Nan loves you as much as you love her."

"But we've only been dating for a week, Van. That's fast in anyone's book."

"But like Joe said, you've been dancing around each other for over two years It really isn't all that fast. In fact, I believe there are glaciers that move faster."

The entire conversation had been spoken quickly, in quiet undertones, for fear of being overheard by the young woman sitting in the next room. They were just rehashing earlier arguments, anyway. Neither Vanessa nor Joe had been surprised when Frank had broached the subject of talking with Carson Drew. Though Frank worried that it was impulsive and abrupt, Van and Joe encouraged him to follow through. He had called Mr. Drew before Nancy emerged from the shower this morning, and made arrangements to have lunch with him the following day. Obviously, that would be a problem since Frank and Joe would soon be winging their way back east.

Frank still stood there, staring at his phone. Vanessa heaved a frustrated sigh. "Franklin Hardy, I always thought you were a very decisive person. What the hell is up with this sudden bought of doubtfulness? It just isn't like you."

Frank smirked. "Mom said I was 'endearingly uncertain where Nancy was concerned.' I guess she was right."

Van pushed herself away from the counter and glared at Frank, tapping her foot impatiently. "Endearingly, huh? I'd call it irritating. You know what _you_ want, Frank. And if you don't follow through you're as good as making the decision _for_ her. You know she would hate that."

The flustered look that Frank directed at her caused a pang of guilt, but Van held her ground. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Nancy spoke behind her.

"What's wrong?"

The scene in the kitchen looked vaguely like the one Nancy had encountered when she came out of the bathroom this morning after her shower. At the time, she chalked it up to Van asking Frank to actually help make breakfast, but now she wasn't so sure.

Frank stood up, shaking his head. "Nothing. I just need to rearrange my schedule, at least for tomorrow, since Joe and I are headed to New York. That's going to be tricky given that it's a Sunday."

Nancy approached him. He seemed hesitant, almost like he was hiding something. She felt wary, which wasn't an emotion she usually associated with Frank. Then he raised his eyes to look at her, a warm smile on his face, and she decided she was imagining things. The whirlwind pace of the case just had her on edge.

She took his hands in hers, her own lips turning up in response to Frank's gaze. Nancy reached up and gave him a soft kiss, then pulled back and squeezed his hands encouragingly.

"Give me names and numbers. I can make the calls tomorrow morning. I don't mind playing secretary."

Frank's brown eyes took on a teasing glint. "With a secretary like you, who needs a girlfriend?"

"You better watch it, Hardy, or your girlfriend might just kick your ass."

Frank moved their joined hands around her waist to the small of her back and pulled her against him. "Is the fact that I find that statement a turn on wrong?"

Vanessa cleared her throat, and Frank shifted his gaze reluctantly to her. "I'm well aware that you're still here, Van."

"I was beginning to wonder." Nancy could hear the smile in Van's voice.

Frank leaned down and kissed her on the lips before releasing her. "Thanks for the offer, Nan, but I need to make this call myself."

Nancy turned to watch him walk away. Her curiosity was again piqued when Vanessa crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at Frank.

"To reschedule?" She prompted, sounding impatient.

Frank glanced over his shoulder and Nancy felt comforting warmth spread through her at the smile on his handsome face. He looked back at Van and nodded. "To reschedule."

As Frank disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door, Nancy crossed her arms and looked at Van questioningly.

"To reschedule what, exactly?"

Van ignored the question. "Did you manage to get them a flight?"

Nancy waited a few beats to answer. She suspected it had to do with Frank's preparations to move to Chicago. As seemed to be the case ever since he had arrived, there was just too much going on externally for them to have a chance to focus on the course of their relationship. And with Frank headed out of town, an opportunity wasn't likely to arise in the near future. She sighed heavily, wanting nothing more than to spend a couple of quiet, uneventful days with him so they could get control of their hormones, and sort themselves out. Ultimately, though, she knew there was no point in pushing Van about it.

"Yes. Riley ok'd the trip. The pilot said it would take him an hour or so to get everything ready."

Van glanced toward the door. "I didn't expect Joe to take this long."

Nancy chuckled. "The old Hardy charm must not be working its usual magic. I have a feeling David is being stubborn about letting his precious daughter out of his sight."

"You're probably right. As protective as he is, David is probably about fit to be tied with Phillip's, or rather, Guy's disappearance."

"It's going to be tricky doing what needs to be done to find Guy and keep Yvonne safe while maintaining the charade in front of David. I really think both Yvonne and Guy would be far happier if they just told David the truth."

The door opened, and Nancy turned expecting to see Joe walking in with Yvonne. Instead she was confronted by an irate Special Agent Daniel Jarvi.

"Where the hell is Frank Hardy?"

Hank and Liesle trailed in behind Jarvi. Neither looked very happy, and Nancy recognized the apology in the thin smile that Liesle directed at her.

Jarvi had a copy of the Tribune folded under his arm, so Nancy could guess what had him so angry. She crossed her arms and faced the agent calmly.

"He's making a phone call. I'm surprised to see you here."

"Well, as you can imagine, I was rather surprised myself, when the young man I sent to Chicago to _lie low_ ends up featured on the front page of the Society section of the flipping Chicago Tribune!"

As Nancy had suspected. She was surprised when Vanessa turned to the man, her tone disparaging.

"You knew when you sent him out here that the press was all over him. You expected that to change?"

Jarvi didn't even glance at Van, his eyes locked on Nancy. "But my understanding is that this had nothing to do with that. According to my agents, you have dragged Frank into working on a case – one that is currently compromising his safety. What do you have to say for yourself, Drew?"

"Back off, Dan." Frank's voice was low and angry.

Jarvi spun and shoved the society page at Frank, who took it and glanced at the article.

"You call this 'lying low?'"

Frank folded the paper over and handed it back. "I've already seen it."

"I thought you might want extra copies to send to the family," Jarvi growled. "Seeing as how it might be the last good photo of you before the mob's boy, Bucciano does his work."

"You're over-reacting. Bucciano isn't after me or Joe, anyway," Frank said. Turning to Nancy, he asked, "Did I hear you say our flight leaves in about an hour?"

"Yes. I talked to the pilot. He said they'd be ready in an hour, maybe hour and half. They fly out of Midway."

"I think maybe Joe's having trouble convincing David to stay in the suite," Frank said with a smirk.

Nancy tried to keep her face serious, but she had the desire to burst out laughing at the indignant expression on Jarvi's face, as Frank talked around him like he wasn't there. She knew the nearly uncontrollable hilarity was likely due as much to nerves and built-up frustration as true amusement, and managed to squelch the urge, barely.

She gave a solemn nod. "That was my guess."

Jarvi put a hand in the middle of Frank's chest, his expression serious. "Just where do you think you're going?"

"New York."

Jarvi looked over his shoulder at Hank and Liesle. "Did you know about this?"

Hank snorted. "We're usually the last ones to find out."

Pushing past Frank, Jarvi walked up to Liesle. "I thought you were in charge, here, Liesle."

Frank crossed his arms, looking at Jarvi narrowly. "We agreed going in that this wasn't protective custody, Dan. So I guess I took that to mean that I called the shots. If you're pissed, be pissed at me, not them."

Jarvi turned back to Frank. "You said you would be careful."

"For me, this is careful. Hank and Liesle have been there every step of the way. You told me yourself that you just wanted to send along a couple agents to hang out with me and Nan and keep the vultures at bay. They've done that."

"The game changed when Bucciano showed up, Frank," Jarvi's tone had turned conciliatory. "I thought you understood that."

"So now this is a game?" Frank snapped. "Because to me, it's just been a pain in the ass. I think Hank and Liesle would agree."

"What information do you have that says that Frank is in any kind of danger?" Nancy asked. "Certainly, if Bucciano was here to kill Frank, he's had ample opportunity. He was camped on my doorstep the night Frank arrived in town."

"This doesn't involve you, Ms. Drew," Jarvi said.

"The hell it doesn't. You're the one that came in here accusing me of putting Frank in danger." Nancy glared at Jarvi. She really wanted to know just how much risk there was to Frank, and Joe, as they planned to head back to New York.

She was hoping that the fact that Bucciano hadn't killed Frank that first night in Chicago was an indication of the lack of any real personal threat to the brothers themselves. That didn't mean they weren't going to walk headlong into danger once on the east coast, but at least trouble wasn't actively seeking them out. Yet.

Frank shook his head, his expression disbelieving. "Have you listened to anything I've said, Dan?"

The door opened again, and Joe came in with Yvonne in tow.

"Hey, why didn't we get an invitation to the party?"

"Not now, Joe," Nancy and Frank said in unison.

Frank caught and held the special agent's gaze. "It's over, Dan. Take Hank and Liesle back to DC. I'll go it on my own from here on out."

"Frank, I wish you would reconsider," Jarvi said quietly.

Hank stepped forward. "Why are you headed to New York?"

Nancy answered him, "Guy took off last night. He just called me a short while ago from JFK."

Yvonne surged out of the background. "You talked to Guy? Is he alright?"

Nancy took the woman's hand and squeezed. "Yes, Yvonne, he's fine. He asked me to tell you that he'd be back soon, and that he loves you."

Van stepped forward, and took Yvonne's other hand, as she and Nancy exchanged a meaningful glance. "Yvonne, let's go sit down in the living room and talk."

As Van led Yvonne away, Frank turned to Hank, speaking softly, "We think Guy went under his own power, but we're afraid he's going to do something stupid."

"He plans to give the mob their money, but we don't think they're going to be satisfied with that at this point," Nancy added quietly.

Joe nodded in agreement. "They probably already have Whitney's fortune in their sights. The DeCavalcante family needs a windfall to finance their comeback."

Frank's smirk was somber, "Especially after we shut down their lucrative identity theft ring."

Jarvi shook his head, his smile un-amused. "You three are bound and determined to make it to the top of the mob's hit list, and are politely asking me to take away your protection detail."

"Actually, for Frank, that was kind of rude," Joe said with a grin.

Liesle had stepped forward, and five sets of eyes turned to her as she spoke firmly, "Dan can get a detail from the Chicago office to help out with protecting Yvonne. Hank and I will go with Frank and Joe to find Guy."

"I think you missed the fact that they're firing us, Liesle," Jarvi said. "And I have no information that is going to convince the Chicago office to commit limited resources to protecting one young woman, no matter how wealthy her father is."

She shrugged. "All that means is that Hank and I are off the clock. What we choose to do on our own time is our business."

"I've already talked to Riley," Nancy said. "He's sending me backup. I'll convince Yvonne to stay holed up here until this is over. We'll be fine."

Jarvi snorted. "Exactly how do you plan to end it? You can find Guy, and even bring him back to Chicago, but that isn't going to make the DeCavalcante family go away."

Liesle smiled thinly. "Actually, my techies are telling me that the syndicate is sounding the death knell for the DeCavalcante family. They're pissed about the identity theft debacle, and DeCavalcante is at the center of it. Taking out Vito and blowing another of their money-making endeavors could be the knock-out blow."

Jarvi leveled Liesle with a calculating look. "You're confident in your intel?"

Liesle smirked. "More confident then I was in the rumor that got us to this point."

"I had my reasons. So did you," Jarvi said cryptically.

"It's settled, then," Liesle said.

"I'll stay here with Ms. Drew," Jarvi said, as he led Liesle and Hank off to the side to discuss their plans.

Nancy stared after Jarvi, her jaw slack for several seconds before she snapped it shut and muttered. "Terrific."

The expression on her face told Frank she thought the idea was anything but terrific. He and Joe flanked her, and he could see that his brother was as relieved as he was that Jarvi was staying. Obviously their reaction was a stark contract to Nancy's.

"It won't be that bad, Nan. I'm kind of glad you'll have extra backup. The more I think about this, the more certain I am that Yvonne is at risk," Joe said quietly.

"It certainly makes me feel better," Frank said. "Yvonne is huge leverage, and You and Van aren't far behind. Whatever is needed to keep you all safe is a good thing in my book."

Nancy's jaw was clenched. "Fine. But Jarvi? He and I are like oil and water."

"Dan isn't a bad guy, Nan. You just need to get to know him," Frank said.

The suite door opened again and George and Bess walked in with the things they had retrieved from Nancy's apartment.

"It's like Grand Central Station here," Nancy said irritably.

"What did we miss?" Bess asked.

"Nothing important," Nancy said.

Frank hoisted the two duffels that contained their clothes and looked at Nancy.

He nodded toward the bedroom. "You'll feel better once you're in clean, comfortable clothes."

"I doubt it."

"Petulance doesn't become you, Drew. Come on."

He led the way into the bedroom, dropped the bags on the bed, and shut the door firmly behind Nancy.

"Alright, what's up?" Frank asked.

Nancy ran her hands back through her hair. "Have you ever noticed that when we're together we attract trouble like a . . . a freaking black hole?"

"I don't know. I think we've each done pretty well at attracting trouble on our own, too. I don't think it's because we're together." At least he hoped not.

"I have this overwhelming urge to just run away."

Frank pulled her into his arms. "That doesn't sound like the Nancy Drew I know and love."

Slipping her arms around his waist, she laid her head on his chest. "I just want to go with you to some remote cabin in the mountains and lock ourselves away from everyone and everything so that we can . . . just figure everything out!"

He pressed his lips to her forehead. "As soon as this is over, we'll do that. Just the two of us."

Nancy's voice was muffled. "Do you promise?"

"I promise."

Pulling back, she looked up into his face, her blue eyes tight with worry. "You just better make sure you come back. I know I suggested the division of labor, but the more I think about it, I really don't like the idea of you and Joe going to New York. Even if Bucciano wasn't out here for a hit on you, if you're in his face, he's not going to hesitate to kill you – either one of you."

"We'll be careful, Nan."

"That makes me feel worlds better, Hardy."

He raised his eyebrows. "Petulance _and_ sarcasm – don't tell me you're regressing, Drew?"

"I can still kick your ass, Hardy."

Frank smiled. "And that still turns me on."

Joe threw clothes into a duffle in preparation for the trip. His mind, until this point, had been decidedly focused on the case, but now, as he opened the drawer of the dresser in their hotel room to find Van's silky negligees hiding his underwear, he was reminded with a jolt why they had come to Chicago in the first place. He picked up his favorite, a simple red slip of silky fabric with spaghetti straps and sighed.

"I think Frank would much prefer to see Nancy in that rather than you."

Van's teasing voice made him smile, and he turned and held the negligee up to his shoulders, looking down with a playful frown. "I thought it would be very becoming on me? You don't think so?"

He raised an eyebrow, and looked up at her smiling face, the teasing twinkle in her blue-gray eyes tugging at him like an invisible force. He tossed the slip aside and strode to her gathering her up in a bear hug, and burying his face in her silky hair. Suddenly, he couldn't recall why he was so anxious to get on that damn jet to New York.

He pulled back and looked down into Van's smiling face. "I'm so sorry about this, baby. I didn't mean to screw up our vacation."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Joseph Hardy. I like Yvonne and Guy, and they need our help." Worry showed in the tightness that appeared around her eyes. "But Nancy is worried about you and Frank going to New York, and that makes me worried."

Joe gave her a confident smile. "We'll be fine. Nancy's worrying about nothing."

"I don't think so. Nancy knows better then I do what you're walking into out there. If she's worried, I'm worried," Vanessa said firmly.

"Hank and Liesle will be with us. That's way more backup then Frank and I usually have going into something like this."

"Just promise me you'll be careful."

"I'll be careful," Joe said solemnly. "I can't speak for Frank. Hey, you could come with us, instead of staying here in Chicago without me."

Vanessa wrinkled her nose. "I have not had nearly a long enough break from my mother. Besides, I want to help Nancy with Yvonne. It's kind of nice getting to actually participate in one of your cases without being the victim."

Joe sighed. "Your mother is still going to be in New York in a week, but I guess I can understand your reasoning. I'm just being selfish. I'd get to see you more if you came with us."

Van raised an eyebrow. "Could I come with you to find Guy?"

Joe nearly choked. "Absolutely not!"

"Then I'm staying here," Van said with a pretty pout.

Joe kissed the protruding lower lip as he wrapped her closer in his arms.

"Well, then, I guess we better say goodbye properly, then."

Half an hour later, he and Frank were boarding the jet at Midway. Joe stowed his duffle, and dropped onto a plush couch with a contented sigh. If he had to leave Van behind, at least he got to do it in style. "I could get used to traveling like this, bro."

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

Frank shoved his duffle with Joe's into the overhead compartment, and then turned to lay his computer tote on a nearby table.

Liesle and Hank followed the brothers on board and stored their luggage as well.

"Maybe we can convince Dad to buy a corporate jet." Joe grinned as Hank took a seat across the aisle from him.

"Uh huh," Frank grunted doubtfully as he sat down across the table from Liesle.

"Nancy didn't seem too happy about Jarvi sticking around," Hank's tone was amused.

Frank shook his head. "Definitely not."

Liesle chuckled. "She gets Jarvi's boxers in a bunch, too. Not sure what's up there."

Joe laughed. "Well, at least we can tell her that she annoys him as much as he annoys her."

"That'll be a great help, little brother," Frank said. "Get Nan spun up some more."

"I spin her up, and you get to wind her down," Joe said. "What are you complaining about?"  
Liesle smiled. "Jarvi was the one that convinced the brass to make her an offer, too. He's holding a spot open in his organized crime task force, even though there are a couple of internal candidates salivating over it. I wonder if he's regretting the decision to take her on."

Frank looked up at her, his eyes narrow. "You don't work for Jarvi, do you?"

Liesle gave him a slight smile. "What tipped you off?"

"Earlier you called them 'my techies.' I'm guessing supervisor, maybe in high tech?" Frank raised an eyebrow.

"You guessed right. Jarvi and I are actually colleagues, though he has more seniority than I do."

Joe sat forward. "So it sounded like you gathered the intel about the hit. Just how credible _is_ the threat to Frank?" The question was one that really worried him, particularly now that they were headed onto DeCavalcante family turf.

"We heard rumblings about Hardy Investigators screwing up the identity theft ring. They were accompanied by questions about whether a retaliatory hit was in order. After that it was quiet. We never got wind that the hit was issued."

"But when Bucciano showed up in Chicago . . .," Frank prompted.

"We figured for sure that the hit had gone out," Hank confirmed.

Frank looked back at Hank. "So, do you work for Liesle or for Dan?"

"Dan gives me my paycheck," Hank said.

As Frank turned back to face Liesle, Joe caught the warm smile and wink that Hank directed at Liesle. These two certainly were comfortable with each other, considering they weren't really partners.

Liesle sat back and crossed her arms. "So, what's your game plan once we get to New York?"

"We start in Jersey City," Frank said.

"In a pool hall near Lincoln Park," Joe added.

Frank pulled a stack of papers out of his tote. "After that we retrace the Mancini's life. We'll see what we can get out of the info that Matt gathered. And I'm hoping that Nan can get some additional leads out of Yvonne."

Joe looked at the pile of printouts and knew exactly what his brother had in mind. He groaned. "Aw, jeez, I was hoping we could relax on the way to New York."

Frank motioned Joe to the table. "We have work to do, little brother."

Reviews appreciated :)


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Thanks to those who have reviewed, and/or added me to their favs/alerts. I promise to catch up on my PMs - yesterday was a wash, because with the storms in northeast Ohio, we were without power most of the day. Please know that those little notices always put a smile on my face :)

I don't own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys, or any of the associated characters. I do lay claim to the OCs that visit the universe in my story, as if anyone cares ;) I make no money from any of this.

Happy Reading!

**Chapter 18: Interviews and Interludes**

"After we left Paris, we traveled all over - Italy, Greece, Turkey. Guy, in particular, had already traveled everywhere we went. He knew at least the basics of several languages, and was very good at losing himself in the culture of whatever country we were in. We spent quite a bit of time making our way down the boot of Italy. Guy speaks Italian like a native – I guess his dad was only one generation removed from the old country, and they spoke Italian at home quite a bit, so that language was second nature for him."

Yvonne had spent the first half hour after the guys left avoiding talking about Phillip and Guy. Nancy had finally decided that she was going to have to be blunt about the need for information. She told Yvonne that she needed to know absolutely every detail about Phillip Colby and Guy Mancini that Yvonne knew. Otherwise, they were never going to find Guy in time. She left the 'for what' part of the equation up to Yvonne, unwilling to be so brutal as to tell her that Guy's, and even her, lives were likely on the line. The young heiress had finally curled up on the arm chair and started talking. Nancy sat on the office chair that Joe had pulled next to the couch, pen and paper on her lap, taking notes.

"I learned over time that Phillip was the one who had financed Guy's escape to Europe, a few years earlier. Guy hated that he had to rely on his best friend's money to leave the mob problems behind, but really he had little choice in the matter. And it wasn't like Phillip wanted anything in return. He said that Guy coming when his parents were killed was more than sufficient payback, but Guy wouldn't listen. He insisted that he would pay back every cent Phillip had given him."

George prompted Yvonne to continue, "And how did he do that?"

Yvonne's pretty face scrunched up in distaste. "Stealing, mostly, I think. He's quite an accomplished cat thief and pick pocket. Then, when we reached Greece, I got to witness his other method of making money."

"Befriending lonely, rich widows?" Van asked.

Nancy nodded in approval. Though her earlier theory had seemed ludicrous when it concerned Phillip, given that Phillip was really Guy, the theory made a lot of sense, now. Unfortunately, the trip down memory lane wasn't helping her identify leads on Guy's whereabouts much yet.

Yvonne nodded sadly. "I was so jealous after he started hanging around with that woman in Greece that I went to her just before we were to leave the islands and told her that Guy was conning her to get her money. She was embarrassed and angry, and went to the local authorities. We managed to get away. Guy was furious with me when he found out I was the one who caused the problem. He was able to call the woman and smooth things over, so that she dropped the charges, which was a relief. But he was ready to leave me behind."

"This sounds like a far cry from the devoted relationship we've witnessed between the two of you," Van said. "There must be a lot more to the story."

"It was actually a defining moment. Phillip interceded on my behalf, and got Guy calmed down. I'm not sure what he said, but when Guy came back he told me that we needed to have a talk. That I needed to understand how it was."

"I lost track of how long Guy and I argued, and to be honest, I have no idea where Phillip went – he just quietly bowed out. I told Guy that there was no reason for him to be prostituting himself like that – it was degrading. He told me I had no idea what it was like not to have Daddy's gold card."

Bess grimaced. "Ouch. That was a low blow."

Yvonne gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah, but he was right. In fact, I would venture that Guy and I were more honest with each other then, than anyone had ever been with either of us in our lives."

"You must have come to some understanding," Van prompted when Yvonne lapsed into another extended silence.

When she spoke this time Yvonne's gaze was wistful. "I remember it so clearly . . . that moment when Guy looked at me and asked 'why do you care, anyway?' And for the first time in my life I was honest, with myself and with him. 'Because I love you, and I know you're better than that.'"

Bess sighed. "That is so romantic."

Tears slipped down her cheeks as Yvonne added, "Guy laughed at me. He told me that he wasn't good enough for me – that I belonged with someone like Phil – a fellow aristocrat that Daddy would approve of. The trouble was that I didn't love Phil, not like that. It took me a long time to convince Guy that he was the only man I truly loved."

As moving as Yvonne's story was, Nancy doubted it would help them find Guy. The self-directed approach wasn't working, and she decided to once again be blunt about what information she really needed to help find Guy.

"Yvonne, please don't take this the wrong way. Everything you've told us so far, while interesting, isn't giving me the kind of information I need to help Frank and Joe find Guy. What I really need are any details you can remember about their life before they went to Europe."

Van looked at Nancy in surprise. After getting Yvonne talking, she had been quiet, allowing Bess, George and Van to keep the story moving forward. Van assumed she was just going to let Yvonne tell her story and take notes. Apparently she had changed her mind.

Yvonne shook her head. "Guy didn't like to talk about before. He said he wasn't the same scared kid he had been when he left the States. He didn't think it was pertinent."

Nancy leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. "What about Phillip? Did he talk to you at all about . . . say, how he and Guy met?"

Yvonne nodded. "He told me he met Guy playing pool in Jersey City. Phil said Guy could work the table better than anyone he'd ever seen play."

Nancy smiled, encouraging. "That's good. What else did he tell you?"

"Phil used to sneak out of his parent's house and go stay with Guy for entire weeks when school was out."

"He'd stay at Guy's father's apartment in Jersey City?" From the little bit of Matt's research that Van had gotten to review so far, she knew they had Giuseppe Mancini's former resident information.

Yvonne's eyes widened. "No, no, actually, Guy stayed in an apartment over a pool hall. The proprietor took a shine to him and let him stay up there."

"He didn't live with his father?" Nancy asked.

"No. As soon as he was making his own money, Guy struck out on his own. Mainly to get away from his dad's benders. Phil said he witnessed only one, but that was enough. Guy's dad was a mean drunk."

Van murmured a heart-felt expression of sympathy. She hated hearing about situations like this. It was amazing to her that Guy wasn't a serial killer. Nancy pressed forward, though Van thought she recognized a flash of anger in the young detective's eyes at this revelation, she remained focused on the need to obtain information to help them find Guy. Van admired Nancy's ability to focus – she knew she would have gone off on a huge tangent regarding Guy's father, which probably wouldn't have helped them find the young man at all.

"Do you remember the name of the pool hall that Guy lived over?"

Yvonne shook her head. "I'm not even sure Phil ever told me. I just know it was a pool hall somewhere in Jersey City."

"Did Phillip ever mention places where he and Guy would hang out?"

"No, none that I really recall. Of course, I don't know New York or New Jersey well at all. I've lived in the Midwest all my life." Yvonne's gaze was apologetic.

Nancy wasn't giving up. "It's ok, Yvonne. Maybe we could pull up a map of the area around Jersey City, that might help jog your memory."

George jumped up and headed to the desk in the corner. "I'll Google it."

Nancy smiled at her friend in thanks, before turning back to Yvonne. "Did Guy ever go visit Phillip?"

Van nodded in agreement – the Colby estate could be a good place to find Guy, especially since he would need somewhere secure, and private. Phil wasn't living there, now, so it was probably pretty deserted – a perfect hideaway.

"During school, they didn't get to see each other as much, but Phil did say that Guy would sometimes spend the weekend at the estate, in the gardener's quarters at the back of the property. It was just a broken down old garden cottage, but I guess Guy really loved it there. Since the Colby's didn't have a live-in gardener, the place was empty, and Guy kind of made it his own."

"Do you know who owns the Colby estate now?" Nancy asked.

Van hadn't thought of that – Phil's parents had passed, and there was no guarantee that Phil had held on to the family estate. Van kind of doubted that he would give it up, though. From what Matt had uncovered, the estate had been in the Colby name for several generations, and though she didn't really know Phil, she couldn't imagine someone throwing away that kind of family heritage on a whim.

Yvonne's eyes widened. "Well, I assume Phil still owns it, but I'm not certain. I never really asked."

Van hummed in frustration. Ideally, they should be talking to Phillip. He knew the young, scared Guy – the one they were trying to find. Yvonne only knew the older, confident and self-sufficient globe-trotting Guy. "You're sure you have no idea where Phillip is? I think it might really help if we could just talk to him."

Yvonne pursed her pouty blood-red lips. "Phil said he was going to travel into 'deepest, darkest Africa.' He had always wanted to go on safari. We haven't heard from him in a couple months. Well, at least I haven't."

"You have no way to get hold of him at all? A cell phone, anything?" Bess asked in surprise. "That seems dangerous given the number of civil wars occurring across Africa."

Yvonne shook her head, her face tightening with sudden worry. "Do you think Phil could be in danger? I never even thought about that. He was always so fearless."

Nancy was staring at Yvonne. "You said _you_ haven't been in touch with Phillip. Has Guy?"

"I think Guy has talked to him, but not regularly."

"When was the last time Guy talked to him?" Nancy asked.

"I'm not sure. Given the time difference, I think Guy usually talked to him in the middle of the night, after I'd gone to bed. Guy always was a night owl."

Nancy tapped her pen on the paper, her gaze thoughtful. "Did Phillip mention where in Africa he was planning to go?"

"He had read some science fiction book that put the idea in his head. Said he wanted to visit the site of the filming of the movie . . ." Yvonne was quiet for several seconds. "The only thing I can think of is Jurassic Park, but that was set in the Caribbean."

"Michael Crichton . . . the Congo, maybe?" Nancy asked.

Yvonne snapped her fingers. "That's it. Michael Crichton's 'The Congo.' I'd never read that book, but I loved the Jurassic Park movies."

"Do you think he'd go to the Congo, or to where they actually filmed?" Bess asked. "Seems to me that movie wasn't filmed in the Congo at all."

"I have the map of the Jersey City area pulled up," George said. "Why don't you come over and we'll take notes on any names that look familiar.

As Bess and Yvonne moved to join George at the computer, Nancy stood and walked into the dining room.

Van followed her. "Maybe Phillip has left an electronic trail. After all, he's not trying to hide from anyone, like Guy was."

Nancy nodded in agreement. She sighed and flipped her cell open. "Matt is really going to hate me. At least he's gotten a few hours sleep by now."

On the jet, all four of them sat huddled around the table sifting through the information that Matt had been able to collect about Phillip's and Guy's early lives. Joe sat back and massaged the bridge of his nose. This was the part of detective work that he wasn't wild about, though over the years, under his big brother's patient tutelage he had become passable good at it.

With two fairly separate histories it was taking a lot of reading between the lines to find the connections. They were focusing on Guy, but it was becoming apparent that looking at either man absent the other was a mistake. Once they had met, they had become fast friends.

Something Guy, as Phillip, had said yesterday when they were talking casually in the suite came back to Joe clearly.

"_Guy had been like a brother to me, but we lost touch when he started traveling, and I went to school – you know, the usual thing that happens to high school friends. If there's one good thing that came out of my parents' death, it's that I was able to renew and strengthen an old friendship."_

Looking sideways at his own brother, Joe considered the statement critically. Earlier in the same conversation Guy had commented that he and Frank seemed more like best friends than brothers. What was the difference? Joe wondered. Frank was his best friend. Guy thought of Phillip like a brother.

"Those records aren't going to review themselves, Joe."

Frank didn't even look up from what he was doing. He had a list of possible leads for them to follow up once they touched down in New York. And he was hoping for more from Nancy's talk with Yvonne. They'd be at this for the next month. Joe sighed in frustration.

"Maybe we need to step back and look at the bigger picture, oh meticulous brother of mine," Joe said.

Rolling his head to relieve the tension of concentrated desk work, Frank set his pen down and looked at Joe with a knowing smile. "And what big picture would you be referring to, oh intuitive brother of mine?"

The reminder of their complimentary strengths put a smile on Joe's face, as he leaned his elbows on the table and looked at Frank intently.

"Phillip and Guy were close friends, almost like brothers, right?"

Frank shrugged. "Right. So?"

"So, if I was in trouble like Guy is in trouble, the first thing I would do is try to get in touch with you," Joe said.

Frank nodded thoughtfully. "I think you might be onto something, there. But we're as clueless about Phillip's whereabouts as we are Guy's. Yvonne said she hasn't heard from Phillip since they got back to the states."

"We're clueless at the moment. But based on what Matt's been able to dig up so far," Joe flipped through the stack of papers still sitting in the middle of the table awaiting review, "I'd bet my bottom dollar he could track Phillip down in next to no time. After all, Phillip isn't trying to hide from anyone."

Frank nodded. "It's worth a try. I'll call Matt as soon as we touch down."

Joe leaned back and locked his hands behind his head. "He's getting a workout this weekend. I'd like to meet Matt."

Frank tapped the papers in front of Joe. "That doesn't mean this goes away, bro. I want to hit the ground running when we get to New York."

"Fine," Joe grunted.

Hank laughed. "You're more of a slave driver than Liesle, Frank."

"He'd sit on his butt and let me do all the grunt work if I let him," Frank said as he bent back over the papers in front of him.

Liesle sat back, crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow at Hank. "Slave driver, huh?"

Hank shrugged. "That honey-do list gets mighty long at times, Lise."

Joe looked from Hank to Liesle, and burst out laughing. "I'll be damned. You two are married."

Did Joe say they were married? Frank looked up in surprise and met Hank's amused gaze. "You're married?"

"Yes, to each other, no less," Liesle said.

It was Frank's turn to sit back and cross his arms. "Married?"

Liesle shrugged. "Yes. Married. Dan was hoping that seeing a married couple working in the Bureau might sway your and Nancy's decision in our favor."

"But you didn't tell us you were married," Frank was confused.

Hank snorted. "That's because Liesle and Dan cooked that little scheme up without my input. I refuse to use my personal life as leverage to sway a recruit's decision to join the FBI. My loyalty only goes so far."

"I didn't really care one way or the other," Liesle said. "I wanted to meet you, and this seemed like an ideal opportunity. Besides, it's not every day I get to work with Hank."

"It's not any day you get to work with me. Normally couples are not partnered. So this _has_ been a treat." Hank smiled at Liesle.

Frank tapped his pen thoughtfully on the table. "Couples don't get to work together at all?"

Liesle shook her head.

Hank leaned forward and looked at Frank intently. "I'm going to give you some unsolicited advice, Frank, despite the fact that it might land me in the dog house. You and Nancy don't belong in the Bureau. You two and Joe here should take your partnership into the private sector. You work well together."

Liesle whacked him on the arm. "What happened to being above influencing their decision, Henry? Married couples do fine in the Bureau."

Hank leveled Frank with an accepting half-smile. "Like I said, dog house." Turning to Liesle, he shrugged. "I call 'em like I see 'em, babe. Do you really think they'd be happy as well as they work together?"

Liesle leaned forward and settled back into her review with an off-hand, "It doesn't matter what I think."

Joe broke out laughing and nudged his brother. "You see that. Even people that don't know you two that well think you're practically married."

"Have you set a date?" Hank asked Frank.

"We aren't engaged," Frank said slowly.

Liesle looked up. "You aren't?"

Frank shook his head.

It took a few seconds for Joe to stop laughing and catch his breath enough to say, "Heck, they've only been dating for a week."

Hank's jaw dropped. "A week? _Dating_ a week?"

"Thanks, Joe." Frank massaged his temples with his finger tips.

"You're welcome, bro," Joe giggled. "You did get hold of Carson, right?"

Taking a deep breath, Frank tried hard not to rise to Joe's bait. "Yes, I did. Which is why I want to hit the ground running in New York – because if you're hoping to convince a man your worthy of marrying his daughter, it really doesn't pay to stand him up twice."

Frank could tell from Joe's expression that he was warring internally over whether to keep on teasing, or relent and get back to work.

Joe leaned forward, and grabbed a piece of paper off the top of the pile. "Fine, let's get back to it."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: Horseshoes and Hand Grenades**

"Thanks, again, Matt. You're a prince."

Van stood next to Nancy in the little dining area, watching as she finished asking a still-grumpy Matt for another favor. In the living room, Van could hear Bess and George prompting Yvonne as they looked at maps of the Jersey City/New York/New Canaan area of Phillip's and Guy's youth. It didn't sound like that was proving very helpful. Every time Yvonne would say a name sounded familiar, it was invariably followed by a statement such as, 'I wonder if that was the name of the street we stayed on in Palermo . . .' or 'Maybe that was the name of that little bistro we stopped at in Morocco.' Her globe-trotting life-style was greatly complicating things.

"So is Matt going to track down Phillip?" Van asked.

Nancy nodded. "Phillip is as good as found. Matt is a miracle worker."

"You have a lot of faith in him."

"He hasn't let me down in the last two years. By now I owe Matt a couple limbs, at least."

"Frank seemed pretty impressed with him, too. I really want to meet this guy."

Nancy squinted at the clock on the microwave, then turned and looked at her notepad, lying on the table. "Frank and Joe should be touching down at JFK soon. I don't have much that's going to help them find Guy. And it sounds like the virtual tour isn't doing much for us, either."

Van dropped into one of the chairs with a sigh. "I get the feeling that Yvonne really doesn't know much about Guy's past. I think he was ashamed of it."

Nancy sat down, too. "It's too bad. He managed to break the cycle by not following in his father's footsteps to become a lackey for the mob. To me, that's admirable. Though his method of making money overseas is shady, it's probably all he knew."

"Personally, I think he would have gone totally straight given half the chance." Van thought it was likely, but knew she tended to be optimistic, especially where people she liked were concerned. As she saw it, Guy had been thwarted from going legit at every turn by circumstances outside of his control.

Nancy seemed inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt, too. "Well, he hasn't always made the best decisions, but then, it doesn't sound like his father set the best example."

Van studied Nancy, who stared at the meager notes she had collected, looking frustrated and worried. Van was right there with the young detective. Her own mind wandered to Joe and Frank, wondering what they would do once they got to New York - besides attracting trouble, which she knew from experience the brothers were very good at. That thought brought to the forefront the nagging worry that was always in the background of her mind in a situation like this.

"Nan, do you think Bucciano is in New York?"

Nancy pressed her lips into a thin line. "By now, I'd say the answer to that question is almost certainly 'yes,' because no matter which one of them he's after, Frank, Joe or Guy, all of his likely targets are now in New York."

Van grimaced. "I think I'd feel better if I at least knew which one of them to be worried about . . . and so that they were on guard."

Nancy's eyes widened. She jumped up from the table and walked to the window, gazing down at the street. She tapped on the glass, a slight smile on her face. "You're right, Van. It would be safer for them going in if they knew Bucciano's plans. Maybe there's still someone here in Chicago we could ask. It's worth a try, anyway."

"Who are you talking about?"

Nancy turned and looked at Van, her gaze earnest, as she moved back to the table with a barely-contained energy that put a bounce in her step. "Bucciano came here with Mitchel. I'm guessing Mitchel knew at least a little bit about what was really going on."

"What are you thinking, Nan?" Her enthusiasm was making Van unaccountably nervous. She hoped Nancy didn't plan to do anything foolish.

"I'm thinking that if Mitchel wants to talk to me, then I should let him."

She flipped open her cell and dialed. "Hello, Kelly at Information. I'd like a number for the New York City Channel 9 News Room, please . . . Yes, I'd appreciate it if you could connect me."

Less than a minute later, Nancy was talking to someone at Channel 9 News. "Hello, this is Nancy Drew. I'm one of the private investigators that was involved in the identity theft ring bust last week. One of your reporters, a Mitch Mitchel, stopped by my apartment a couple nights ago looking for an interview. I've decided that I will grant him one."

"Please, have him call me on my cell," Nancy provided the number. "I look forward to hearing from him, soon."

Nancy closed the phone and grinned at Van, blue eyes sparking with excitement. "Hopefully Mitchel can shed some light on what Bucciano is up to."

Nancy's cell phone started chirping.

"That was quick," she picked it up, and her face relaxed into a smile. "Frank and Joe must be in New York."

Van leaned forward. "Can I talk to Joe?"

"Sure."

Nancy flipped the cell open, her heart quickening at the thought of hearing Frank's voice. He had only been gone for a couple hours, and she already missed him. Added to the fact that she was incredibly worried about what he and Joe were walking into on the east coast, and any chance to hear his voice and confirm that he was still walking and breathing was more than welcome.

"Hey, handsome, how was your flight?"

"Uneventful, for the most part. How have things been going there?" Frank's warm voice washed over her, lessening the tension Nancy hadn't even realized had built since his departure.

"Uneventful here too, and not very helpful, I'm afraid."

"Yvonne doesn't have much, huh?"

"I think Van hit the nail on the head. Guy was ashamed of his past. He didn't share much of it with Yvonne. What little she knows, she learned from Phillip."

In the background, Nancy heard Joe say, "What happened to calling Matt as soon as we touched down?"

"What do you need from Matt?" Nancy asked, and then added, "Oh, by the way, Van wants to talk to Joe."

Frank said, "Ok. As for Matt . . . Joe had a good point. If Guy's in trouble he's likely to try to get in touch with Phillip. We need to find him."

Nancy chuckled. "He must be channeling Van, or vice versa. I already talked to Matt about it. He's working on tracking Phillip down as we speak. He's going to be able to help us more than anyone else in finding Guy."

"You're my hero, Nan."

She could hear the smile in Frank's voice, and she felt a responding smile curve her lips. She had to force herself to focus on the task at hand.

"A couple tidbits that Yvonne did drop. As soon as he was able, Guy struck out on his own. Apparently he stayed in an apartment over a pool hall. Unfortunately, she didn't know the name of the pool hall. And he used to go to the Colby estate and stay in the garden cottage at the rear of the property. She said it sounded like he had basically made it his own."

"There are quite a few pool halls in and around Jersey City – that alone is a lot of ground to cover. Let alone a trek to New Canaan."

"Yeah, but if you can find the pool hall that he lived above the proprietor might be able to give you some additional leads. Apparently he took a shine to Guy, and let him stay there free of charge."

"It's a place to start. If he's looking to hook up with the mob and try to negotiate his way out of his dad's gambling debt, I question whether he'd go either place." Frank's voice was ruminative.

"He's going to have to set up a base of operations. Jersey City is probably more convenient, but the Colby Estate might be preferable from a safety standpoint. Hard to say which Guy would prefer, if either."

Van tugged on Nancy's arm. "I really need to talk to Joe."

"Is Joe there, Frank? Van wants to talk to him."

Frank must have covered the mouthpiece on his end. His next couple words were muffled, "Hey, Joe!" Then he came back on the line. "I'll put it on speaker. Maybe we can talk this out and come up with an efficient plan of attack."

Nancy motioned Vanessa over to the dining room table and laid her cell between them, set on speaker.

Vanessa said, "Joe, are you there?"

"Hey, Babe, how goes it in Chicago?"

"Ok, Nan's already filled Frank in on the pertinent information we learned from Yvonne."

"Which isn't much," Nancy said.

"But she didn't tell him about her plan to talk to Mitchel."

"What?" Frank and Joe said in unison.

"Van . . ." Nancy sighed. She had her reasons for not saying anything.

"Why talk to Mitchel?" Frank's voice was tight. That was her main reason. She didn't want him to worry.

"He's the one person who has been involved from the beginning that we haven't talked to. After all, he and Bucciano traveled to Chicago together. Mitchel is bound to have at least some knowledge about what Bucciano is up to."

"Have you talked to Jarvi about this plan of yours?" Joe asked.

"No . . . not yet."

"You weren't going to talk to him, were you?" Frank asked.

Frank's accusation put Nancy on the defensive. "I was going to talk to him. I just came up with the idea five minutes ago. I don't see what the big deal is, anyway. Mitchel is a reporter."

"A reporter who associates with mobsters, Nan. I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this meeting," Frank said.

Nancy ground her teeth in irritation. "Thin ice."

"I'm not the one standing on it," Frank snapped.

"Alright, kids, let's take a step back." Joe's reasonable voice broke in. "I agree that Mitchel needs to be approached, but he does need to be approached with caution. Let's just be smart about it."

"That means not reckless, Nancy," Frank clarified.

"I am not reckless, Hardy."

Frank's tone was appeasing. "Not usually."

"Well, I feel better that you know," Van said. "And I think Mitchel needs to be interviewed, too, but Nancy definitely shouldn't do it alone. I think I should go with her."

"Vanessa, let Jarvi handle Nan," Joe's voice sounded vaguely panicked at the idea of his fiancé taking an active part in the interview.

Nancy easily recognized the angry retort she could see burning in Van's blue-gray eyes. It wouldn't be good if she were the cause of friction between Joe and Van, even if she was just as irritated by the statement. Handle her, indeed!

She took a deep breath and cut Van off. "We'll talk to Jarvi and figure out how to handle the interview with Mitchel. What's your plan of action on that end?"

"I think we should start in Jersey City," Joe said without hesitation.

"Given the mob angle, Jersey City probably is our best bet, but I hate to not check New Canaan." Frank was being his usual thorough self.

"So we split up," Joe said. "You and I can go to Jersey City and let Hank and Liesle head to New Canaan."

Nancy felt a flash of irritation at the brothers – both of whom had essentially accused her of being reckless only moments before. She bit back the angry retort that leapt to her lips, and tried for a reasonable tone.

"I hate to see you split given the potential danger from Bucciano. Not to mention that if that's how you plan to split, I think you two should be the ones to go to New Canaan while Hank and Liesle handle the Jersey City portion of the search."

"I agree," Van said.

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening, and lasted for several seconds. It was broken not by either brother, but by Liesle.

"Don't worry, ladies. If we split ranks, it will be Joe and I going one direction, and Hank and Frank going another. We don't plan to let them out of our sight. One item of interest - there are rumblings in the mob pipeline that Bucciano has been blacklisted by the DeCavalcante family."

"Blacklisted? So he's not working for them anymore?" Nancy asked.

"Not anymore," Liesle confirmed.

"The question is - was he working for them when he headed out to Chicago?" Frank said.

"Maybe he's not a threat anymore," Joe suggested, sounding hopeful.

"But if he is, he's most likely a threat to you, Joe," Frank sounded worried.

"How do you figure that?" Joe asked.

Nancy had recognized the same thing Frank had. "Your connection with Bucciano is the only one that doesn't hinge on the DeCavalacante Family, Joe."

Looking up at Van, she saw the young woman's face tighten in concern. She reached over and squeezed Van's hand comfortingly.

"That settles it," Frank said. "Hank and I will head to Jersey City, while Joe and Liesle check out New Canaan."

The disgruntled groan on the other end of the line had to come from Joe. Van leaned forward and spoke sternly into the phone.

"Joseph Fenton Hardy, I expect you to behave and be careful. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, baby, I understand." Joe's sheepish acknowledgement made both Nancy and Van smile.

Frank's impatient voice ended the call. "Well, wish us luck. We still have to get rentals to get on the road. We're burning daylight, so I think we better get moving. And Nancy, promise me you'll talk to Jarvi and be careful approaching Mitchel."

"I promise, Frank. You can stop henpecking me, already."

Vanessa cast an apologetic glance at Nancy as she closed her cell. "I'm sorry about that, Nan. But I guess I was kind of worried you wouldn't talk to Jarvi, too."

Nancy shrugged. "It's ok. I planned to talk to Jarvi about it, anyway, but you're probably right. They need to know what we're up to on this end, and vice versa."

The door to the suite opened and Nancy and Van both turned to greet the new visitors. Nancy was surprised to see Matt walking in, followed closely by Riley Adams.

She stood. "What are you two doing here?"

"Well, I figured since you'd already usurped Matt's services all weekend, he might as well come here and help me keep an eye on you, Drew," Riley's words were gruff, but Nancy recognized the odd mixture of amusement and worry that often accompanied their talks about her casework. Riley had Frank beat when it came to being a mother hen.

"The idea was to send someone to back me up in keeping an eye on Yvonne," Nancy said.

"Yeah, well, after talking to Special Agent Jarvi, out there, I'm thinking there's way more going on then you've let on. Matt and I will both be staying until that boyfriend of yours gets back here."

Nancy knew there was no point in arguing. She motioned to Vanessa, "Well, if you're going to be hanging around, I might as well introduce you to everyone. This is Vanessa Bender, Joe's fiancé."

"Bess and George, you know," Nancy said, leading him into the living room. "And this is Yvonne Whitney. How are you coming on the virtual tour?"

Yvonne sighed. "I'm afraid it's not helping, in fact it may just complicate things. Phil, Guy and I traveled all over, and I honestly just can't remember whether I heard some of these names in association with Guy's past, or because we visited them somewhere in our travels overseas."

"I can cross check what I know of your travel itinerary with the list of names, and maybe help with that," Matt offered. "I brought my equipment, too, so I could work on Nancy's latest assignment of trying to find Phillip. Do you ladies mind if I take a seat?"

Yvonne jumped up and offered hers. "Be my guest. I hate computers."

"Good thing I don't," Matt said with an embarrassed smile. "Thanks."

Riley took Nancy's arm and walked her back into the dining room. "So, what's this about Bucciano possibly being after Frank?"

"We think Joe is the likely target, based on the most recent information Liesle's techies have heard. Either way, I think they're walking into a rat's nest out on the east coast."

"If they're after Frank or Joe, you and Vanessa could just as well become targets," Riley said. "That means I expect you to play it safe, Drew. Capice?"

Nancy heaved a sigh, wondering if she was going to survive having two mother hens clucking after her.

"Yes, Riley, I understand."

Joe slouched in the passenger seat of the non-descript rental he and Liesle had acquired at the airport. While he understood why he had to go to New Canaan rather than Jersey City, he still didn't like it.

Liesle's cell phone toned, and she held it out to Joe. "It's probably Hank, checking in. Answer it, please? I think our turn-off is coming and I don't want to miss it."

Joe picked up the phone and flipped it open. "Liesle's phone, Joe speaking."

"Hi Joe," Hank said. "Just checking in. We have a list of pool halls in the Jersey City area. Of course, the first one we stopped at was a wash, but we're on our way to the next. Luckily there aren't too many in Jersey City proper. Hopefully it's one of them."

"We're just getting off at the New Canaan exit. We should be at the estate shortly," Joe said. "Hopefully we won't have any trouble getting onto the property."

"Alright. I'll check back in another hour. Good luck." Hank hung up.

Joe set Liesle's cell in the cup holder between them. "They're headed to the second pool hall. First one was a bust."

"It could be a long day," Liesle said.

They traveled through New Canaan's thriving town center, and onto a tree-lined lane that ran between manicured lawns quietly exuding affluence. They pulled up to a large iron security gate that led onto the Colby Estate. Behind the gate a black-topped drive curved up to a stately home with wide marble steps that led to a columned entryway.

Liesle pulled up to the keyless entry pad, and pushed the call button. It took almost a minute for a response.

"Can I help you?"

Holding her badge up to the security camera for inspection, Liesle responded, "This is Special Agent Liesle Lion of the FBI. I have a private investigator, Joe Hardy with me. We would like to talk to the head of the household regarding a possible intruder on the grounds."

"I will buzz you in, ma'am."

As the iron gate swung in, Joe nodded in approval. "Nice ploy."

Liesle shrugged. "It's not a ploy if you believe it to be true."

Liesle pulled up to the base of the steps. Shutting the car off, she turned to Joe. "Well, here goes nothing."

The large oak door was opened by a thin, balding man in a black suit. "Special Agent Lion and Mr. Hardy, I presume. What is this about an intruder on the grounds?"

The man didn't invite them in, but stood in the gap of the opened door looking at them in challenge.

"Are you the head of the household, sir?" Liesle asked.

The man drew himself up, looking down his nose at Liesle. "When Mr. Phillip is absent, I run the household, yes."

"And you are?" Liesle asked.

"James Little, ma'am. I am the head of the service staff here. I've been with the Colby family for nearly 30 years."

"Since before Phillip was born," Joe said.

"Yes, sir."

"So, Phillip isn't home?" Liesle asked.

"Mr. Phillip has not been home in some time, though I do speak to him regularly. What does this have to do with an intruder?"

"Phillip has a friend, a man named Gaetano Mancini, and we believe he may be staying in the garden cottage at the rear of the estate. We need to go check that out, if at all possible," Liesle said.

"Mr. Gaetano, if he were on the estate, would be here as a welcome guest. Mr. Phillip insisted that he always be welcomed."

Joe decided that the direct approach was probably best. "Mr. Little, it would really be in Guy's best interest for you to tell us if he is here. We're only trying to help."

Little straightened his tie, and brushed down the front of his suit. "I did not mean to imply the Mr. Gaetano was here, sir. Only that he would be welcome if he were."

Joe heaved a frustrated sigh, and looked over Little's shoulder and into the interior of the home. Guy Mancini was here, and Joe was tired of playing polite. "Guy! Come on, man, we're here to help. Yvonne is worried sick. Just come out and talk to us!"

"Sir, I must ask you to please lower your voice. This is a quiet neighborhood."

"It's alright, James. Let them in."

Guy Mancini pulled the door open, and motioned Liesle and Joe inside. "I told Nancy to have you watch Yvonne, not come running after me. I assume you made sure she was safe?"

"Yvonne is safe," Joe said. "You, on the other hand, are walking into a rattlesnake pit without backup. Not smart, Guy."

Liesle had stepped aside, and opened her cell. Guy put a hand on her arm. "Who are you calling?"

"I'm calling Hank to let them know we found you. We didn't think you'd be quite so easy to run to ground."

"Where are they?"

"Jersey City, taking a tour of the pool halls," Joe said. "I thought for sure that was where you would be."

Guy smirked. "That was going to be my next stop, but first I wanted to get the lay of the land from someplace secure. And nowhere is more secure than this place."

"That was smart," Joe said. "What have you been able to find out from your sources?"

"The DeCavalcante family is getting desperate. I'm not sure whether to take that as good or bad. The only thing I'm sure about is that it's gonna make them unpredictable. That worries me, especially considering who my father-in-law is."

Liesle wrapped up her call and turned back toward them. "We're going to regroup here, and figure out how to approach your problem, Guy."

Guy crossed his arms, gaze wary. "I didn't ask for your help."

Joe clapped Guy on the shoulder. "Technically, you did. And Frank and I always help out our friends."

Guy glanced away self-consciously. "Thanks."

"Any time, bud," Joe said with a grin. "Now how about we sit down, and you tell us all about what's been going on, and then we'll figure out where to go from here."

"So Joe and Liesle arrived at the estate, and Guy just revealed himself, just like that?"

Frank still couldn't believe it. He was sure it would take them more time to track down Guy. The second pool hall had been a wash, like the first. Liesle had called as they were walking out to the car to head to the third. Hank had just pulled into the street and was currently sitting at a red light at the corner of the block where the pool hall was located.

"Yeah, maybe he's less reckless than we gave him credit for. Lise said that he wanted to get the lay of the land before making a move, and decided to do that from the security of the Colby Estate."

"Smart."

Hank nodded. "He's definitely no fool. Still leaves us with the problem of how to get him out of the mob's crosshairs."

"Well, I'm going to give Nan a call and let her know that we found Guy. That should help allay Yvonne's worries some." Frank pulled out his phone and dialed Nan's number, his mood lifting considerably with the positive turn in their investigation, and in anticipation of talking to Nancy.

"Hey handsome! Is everything ok?"

Her voice on the other end of the line brought a smile to his face.

"Better than ok," Frank said. "Joe and Liesle are with Guy now. He's fine. You can tell Yvonne not to worry."

Nancy must have lifted the receiver from her mouth, as she spoke to someone on that end. "It's Frank. They've found Guy, and he's fine. Why don't you go give Yvonne the good news."

Into the receiver Nancy said, "That was quick."

"Yeah . . ."

The light turned green and Frank glanced sideways out of habit as Hank started through the intersection. Headed directly at the driver's side of the car from the intersecting side street was a large SUV. The driver either had no brakes or was blind and didn't see them because he didn't appear to be slowing.

Bracing himself, Frank yelled, "Look out, Hank!"

On the other end of the line, he heard Nancy's panicked, "Frank, what's wrong?"

Then all he could hear was the sickening screech of metal on metal as the SUV plowed into the driver's side of the little economy car they were driving.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion, the impact was accompanied with the simultaneous deployment of the side-impact air bags. Frank felt himself pushed into the passenger-side door, his head slamming into the side window as safety glass from the front windshield rained down on them.

It took several seconds . . . or was it minutes? . . . for him to become aware enough to realize that he was still sitting in the mostly-intact side of the car. He forced himself to turn his head and look at Hank, but he was having trouble focusing and the simple act of turning his head caused shooting pain.

"Hank?" Frank was surprised at the weakness of his voice, and the fact that Hank didn't respond worried him.

The passenger-side door opened, and Frank tried to look at the man who crouched there but the face wouldn't come into focus.

"I'm ok, hit my head's all. Hank . . ."

The man took Frank's wrist and stretched his arm out. "Don't try to talk."

Frank felt a prick on his arm and looked down in confusion, but the sensation was gone, and the guy had stood up and gripped his elbow, pulling him out of the wreckage of the car as he spoke.

"He doesn't look like he got hurt too badly, how's the other guy?"

"We're gonna have to wait for rescue personnel. He's trapped. It looks pretty bad. Who the hell was driving that SUV? The driver must have bailed on foot. Freaking coward."

Even the sunlight sent shooting pain through his already aching head. The disembodied voices swirled through Frank's consciousness as he was laid on the sidewalk, but he was finding that his muscles would respond only weakly to his commands. It was a struggle to even blink.

Another worried face swam into his line of vision. "Are you alright, buddy? That was one hell of a crash."

Frank tried, but could not seem to form a response to the question. He squeezed his eyes shut, and then noticed with relief that the pain seemed to be lessening. His muscles, however, continued to prove unresponsive.

"I've got him, why don't you go see what you can do for his friend."

Frank was surprised to find he still held his cell phone, and tried to lift it to his ear, remembering that he was talking to Nancy before the crash.

His rescuer misunderstood the weak motion, and removed the phone from his hand. "Let me take that for you. We need to get you out of the way so the rescue personnel can help your friend."

He took Frank's arm and pulled it up around his shoulders. Frank really didn't want to move, but he understood the need. He tried to help by moving his feet, but his rescuer moved much faster than Frank could manage to shuffle.

He allowed himself to be dragged across the street, the scene around them still a blur of light and noise that Frank was finding difficult to decipher. At least the pain seemed to be fading. Maybe he hadn't been hurt that badly. But why couldn't he seem to move? He was finding he didn't really care, he just wanted to lie down and close his eyes.

"C'mon, Frankie, we're almost there."

The man supporting him lifted him bodily, carrying him to a nearby car. Frank wondered vaguely how he knew his name. A passerby stopped them and spoke in a garbled voice to his companion.

"Don't mind my young friend here, he's just had a bit too much to drink."

Even Frank's foggy brain managed to register the fact that his companion was not a friend. He tried to protest, but his muscles were becoming increasingly stubborn about listening to the simplest commands.

"That a boy, Frankie, you made it."

The man attached to the voice yanked open the door of a car and lowered Frank into the seat. Frank squinted at the face that now entirely filled his line of vision, trying desperately to bring the blur of color into focus. Recognition dawned, and Frank's insides went cold - Vito Bucciano.

Frank tried to move, tried to yell. Unfortunately, his muscles no longer worked.

"Give it up, kid. Don't make this any harder on yourself. I gave you a little muscle relaxant. You aren't going anywhere."

Frank felt the first inkling of panic set in as he realized he had been drugged. Bucciano slammed the car door shut, strolled to the other side, got in, and easily slid the car into traffic, headed away from the scene of the crash.

With mounting frustration, Frank could observe everything with amazing mental clarity as the adrenalin seemed to counteract the sedative effects of the drug. Unfortunately, he still couldn't seem to do anything about it.

A/N:

Moohahah, ahem . . . left my notes for after the chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Glad to know you're still out there and enjoying the story. Just a quick note on the muscle relaxant – I got the idea off Criminal Minds, and I really don't know that this is medically possible (though based on my internet research, it does appear to be), but decided to exercise some artistic license and go with it. No flames, please ;)

I don't own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys, just like to abuse . . . uh, use them for fun ;) I make no money from this!


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: Hail Mary's & Holy Chautauqua**

The cacophony of screaming metal and breaking glass was terrifying, and Nancy gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and wasn't sure if it was the downward force of the hand, or the emotional force of what she had just heard, but her knees buckled, and she dropped into the dining room chair.

Riley's worried face hovered in front of her, and she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Pulling the phone away from her ear, she noted that the call was still connected. She waved Riley away and put the phone back up to her ear.

"Frank?"

She was surprised at how calm her voice sounded, even though every nerve in her body was buzzing with adrenalin.

She heard Frank murmur, "Hank?"

"Frank?" She said more loudly.

She heard a low groan, and then voices in the background shouting to get help, followed by the screech of a bent car door opening.

Frank was talking again, his words slurring together, "'M ok, hit my head's all. Hank . . ."

Another voice said "Don't try to talk."

"Frank? Anyone, can you hear me?" Nancy shouted into the phone, but no one on the other end seemed to notice.

The rescuer was talking again. "He doesn't look like he got hurt too badly, how's the other guy?"

Nancy felt a surge of relief. "Hey, please, I'm still on the line. Talk to me!" She stopped as she realized another voice was speaking.

". . . It looks pretty bad. Who the hell was driving that SUV? The driver must have bailed on foot. Freaking coward."

Nancy listened carefully for a few seconds.

"Are you alright, buddy? That was one hell of a crash."

The second voice again. If Frank was conscious, why wasn't he answering? That worried her.

"Frank? Please, anybody, I'm still on the line." Nancy felt foolish shouting into the phone. Apparently the noises on the street were drowning her out on the other end.

The first rescuer said, "I've got him, why don't you go see what you can do for his friend." After a brief pause, the same voice said, "Let me take that for you. We need to get you out of the way . . ."

"Please, I'm still here, can you tell me what's going on," Nancy shouted. But when she stopped to wait for a response she realized that the background noise was gone. She pulled the phone back and saw that the call had ended.

"Damn it!" Her thumb hovered over the send key, debating whether to call back directly, or wait a minute or two to give the rescuer time to get Frank out of harm's way.

"Nancy, what's going on?" Riley asked.

She took another deep breath and looked up, noticing for the first time that all eyes in the suite were trained on her.

"Frank and Hank were in a car accident. I think Frank is ok, I heard him being pulled out. I don't know about Hank. Whoever pulled Frank out has his cell, but I couldn't get him to hear me. Do you think I should call back?"

"I should call Joe," Van said.

Nancy nodded. "But first call Mr. Hardy. He's closer. He'll be able to get there faster."

"Should I call their mother?" Van looked apprehensive at the thought.

"Just Mr. Hardy and Joe for now, Van," Nancy decided.

Jarvi appeared at her elbow. "Call back and find out what the hell is going on. How's my agent?"

Nancy hit the send button and the phone rang. After over a dozen rings, she hung up. "No one is answering."

"Give it a couple minutes and try again," Jarvi said sharply.

It was the longest couple minutes Nancy had ever spent, with Jarvi standing there glaring at her like the accident was her fault.

She opened the phone and hit the send button again. It rang several times but was finally picked up. "Hello, sir, I was talking to the man you helped pull from the car. His name is Frank Hardy. Can you tell me what's going on? Are he and Hank alright?"

The low chuckle that sounded over the phone made Nancy's blood run cold. Her expression must have been telling, because Jarvi mouthed 'What's wrong?'

She put a hand over the mouth piece and hissed, "Have Matt run a trace. Now."

"I know who he is, Nancy. Don't worry your pretty little head. Frank survived the accident with nothing more than a bump on the head."

"Who is this?"

Another chuckle. "Oh, I think you have a pretty good idea who this is. You tell Joe Hardy that I said, 'an eye for an eye.' Old fashioned revenge is a dessert best served bitter, don't you agree."

"That's a 'dish best served cold' moron. Let me talk to Frank."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk – so rude. Frankie's a bit uncommunicative right now, sweetheart. Don't you worry, though. I'll take good care of him."

"What do you want?"

"I want Joe Hardy to suffer like I have. I won't kill Frankie, but by the time I'm done with him, he'll wish I had – and his brother will know that it's his fault."

"Joe didn't do anything to you!"

"I beg to differ, sweetheart. He took my brother away from me. Turn about is only fair. Sorry, but I really ought to be going. I'd hate for you to trace me to _my lair_." Bucciano laughed - a hollow, frightening sound.

"Wait . . . !" Nancy looked at her cell and confirmed that the call had been disconnected. "Shit!"

"Who was it?" Jarvi's lips were outlined in white.

It felt like Nancy's world was crashing down around her as she answered. "Bucciano."

"Shit."

Vanessa's grip on the phone had tightened painfully as she listened to Nancy's side of the conversation. It matched the grip of fear in her chest. Bucciano had Frank.

The receptionist must have found Fenton, as his voice sounded on the line, "Vanessa, honey, what's wrong? Sherry said it was an emergency, but I'm in the midst of a new client meeting . . ."

Vanessa did something she never would have done under normal circumstances. She interrupted Fenton.

"Frank is . . . was in Jersey City. There was a car accident, and . . ." she tried to control the tremor in her voice, as the quivering of her chin made talking nearly impossible. "Oh, my God, Fenton, Frank's been kidnapped by Vito Bucciano. You have to get over there. Please hurry!"

Vanessa felt a hand on her shoulder, and a gentle voice said, "Let me talk to him."

She willingly handed over her cell to Riley Adams, knowing he was much better equipped then she to provide the information necessary to Fenton. In a daze, she walked over to Nancy, who still sat at the dining room table.

"Did you call Mr. Hardy?" It took a few seconds for it to register that Nancy was talking to her.

Riley answered. "I'm talking to him now. He's on his way."

"We need to get in touch with Joe and Liesle."

"I'm working on it," Jarvi snapped.

"Matt, did you get the trace?"

"I got it, but I'm afraid the signal is stationary, Nan. I'd bet he ditched the phone."

Nancy nodded. "But at least the current location provides a direction from the scene of the accident to begin searching."

Nancy's voice was so even and forceful. Van looked at her, noting how bright her blue eyes appeared in the pallor of her face. And yet, despite her obvious distress, she sounded so composed.

"How can you be so calm?"

Nancy pushed herself away from the table, moving not only her chair but the table in the process. "Because falling apart isn't going to help Frank, Vanessa!"

Vanessa winced at the anger in Nancy's voice. She hadn't meant for it to sound like an accusation. "I'm sorry, Nancy. I didn't mean it that way."

Nancy took a deep breath, and ran her hands back through her hair. Her voice cracked slightly when she turned and spoke to Vanessa. "No, I'm sorry, Van."

"Lise, I need you to be quiet and listen carefully. Frank and Hank have been in a car accident . . ."

Nancy swung around to listen intently to Jarvi's side of the conversation with Liesle.

"Lise . . . Liesle . . . Special Agent Lion, be quiet and listen!" Jarvi's face was red. "I don't know how Hank is, but Fenton Hardy is on his way to the scene of the accident. Our biggest problem is that Bucciano orchestrated this to nab Frank."

Jarvi listened for several seconds, nodding his head. "Yes, I agree. Tell Joe to stay with Mancini while you head to Jersey City. Put Hardy on the phone. One cluster is all I can handle at a time. I want him . . . Joe, I said to stay put, and I mean it. You and Guy stay at the Colby estate. We'll let you know what's going on as soon as we figure it out. Understood?"

Nancy was shaking her head, and Van was relieved to hear her voice the warning that was flashing through her own head.

"He's never going to agree to that."

"Joe, I'm asking you to stay in New Canaan so you don't compound our problem. Please promise me . . . good. Thank you for cooperating. Is Liesle ok?"

"Alright. Listen, I need to make a few more calls. I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Nancy practically leapt down Jarvi's throat when the agent hung up.

"Do you really think Joe is going to just sit this out in New Canaan? Because if you do I have some lovely real estate in Florida I'd like to sell you!"

"He said he'd stay put and watch out for Guy. He's listening to reason."

"That's what he _said_ – and what Joe says and what he does are often in two different universes, especially in a situation like this. Idiot!"

Van braced herself as Jarvi's face turned almost purple. "I'm going to let that little comment slide given the stress you're under, Drew."

He swung away from Nancy and flipped his cell open to make another call just as Nancy's cell rang. Van looked at the display, which had a New York phone number that she didn't recognize.

Nancy snatched it up off the table, her voice still tight with barely contained anger. "Hello?"

Taking several calming breaths, Nancy slowly sat down, spreading her free hand out flat on the table. The motion seemed to help her calm down.

"Hello, Mr. Mitchel. Yes. I would like to meet with you . . . In an hour at Lincoln Park? An hour should be fine. Perhaps we could meet at the Starbucks on North Clark?"

She listened for several more seconds and then nodded her head decisively. "I'll see you there. Thanks."

Nancy closed the cell and set it on the table. "He wants me to meet him."

"We haven't talked to Jarvi about this, yet," Van said nervously.

Jarvi touched Nancy's shoulder to get her attention. "I just talked to the DC office. They're sending a detail out to the scene of the accident. They've already issued the BOLO for Bucciano and alerted the local authorities about what's going on. Hopefully we can find him before he holes up somewhere. And what, exactly, haven't you talked to me about yet?"

Nancy stood up and faced Jarvi. "I have a date with Mitch Mitchel."

"The reporter?" Jarvi looked confused.

"The man who brought Bucciano to Chicago in the first place," Nancy said.

Jarvi digested that and then nodded in approval. "Definitely worth talking to. Where?"

"The Starbucks on North Clark."

"Busy place?" Jarvi asked

Nancy looked at the clock on the microwave. "Probably at least moderately busy this time of day. He wanted to meet at Lincoln Park, but I figured that was probably not the safest idea."

"Well, the coffee shop is definitely a better place for a meet and greet then Lincoln Park. It's not that I don't like to have people around, just not too many that they get in the way. How far away is it?"

"Ten minutes, tops. I'm supposed to meet him there in an hour."

"It's going to take me that long to convince the Chicago office to give me a detail, Drew."

Riley crossed his arms. "I'll take care of the surveillance. And you aren't going in without being wired. Matt!"

"If Mitchel's involved he'll be looking for a wire. We need to be careful. He'll be far more communicative if he thinks I'm alone," Nancy said.

Vanessa found her earlier enthusiasm about joining Nancy in the interview was gone as she listened to them debate how to handle the meeting with Mitchel. She didn't even broach the subject.

Riley Adams leaned down and handed her back her phone at a lull in the discussion. "I'm sorry, forgot I had this. Here you go. Fenton is on his way. Everything will be alright." He squeezed her shoulder in reassurance.

Vanessa stared at the phone for a moment before opening it to press the speed dial for Joe's cell. She might not be able to help Nancy, but though there were no guarantees of success she was at least going to try to keep her fiancé out of trouble.

"Stay in New Canaan, Joe. Don't get involved, Joe. Keep your nose clean, Joe. Sit and stay, Joe."

With each sentence Joe spun and retraced steps he had already retraced several dozen times since hearing that his brother had been kidnapped by Vito Bucciano. Guy stood nearby watching quietly. Liesle had spent several frantic minutes entreating both of them to stay put. She had finally left them in charge of each other – Joe was to make sure Guy stayed safe in New Canaan, and vice versa.

"Would you stop pacing? You're making me nuts," Guy said.

Joe ignored the request. "I can't believe this. I cannot freaking believe this. Stuck in New Canaan while Frank is God knows where with Bucciano taking out his revenge."

"So, let's go."

Stopped in his track by the suggestion, he turned and looked at Guy. "Go?"

Guy nodded. "I'm not going to stop you, and if you don't stop me, then we can go. Right?"

Joe crossed his arms and looked at the tall, muscular blond with a narrow gaze. "Go where?"

"To Jersey City."

"Bucciano is long gone from Jersey City, Guy."

"But the DeCavalcante family isn't. And I'd bet dollars to donuts they have a damn good idea where Bucciano is."

"I heard they black-listed him," Joe said uncertainly. Even to him seeking out the DeCavalcante family sounded like a risky idea. Especially when you were with a Guy who might as well have a bull's eye painted on his forehead. Especially, especially when you might have a bull's eye on your own head.

"Yes, they have. All the more reason to keep tabs on him. Bucciano is a mean mother, and not the kind of man you want to make an enemy of. You and the DeCavalcantes have something in common in that right now, he hates both of you."

Joe processed that carefully. Guy had a good point. They could use the shared enemy angle to their advantage when approaching the DeCavalcantes. He assumed Guy had a contact in mind . . . as well as his own agenda to follow.

"Alright, Guy. Let's say I agree to this. What's the game plan?"

"I know a couple guys that are still involved. We just need to find them."

"They're probably already looking for you, Guy. What you're proposing is awful damn risky."

Guy walked up to Joe and put a hand on his shoulder. His eyes were tight. "Listen, Joe, I've had run-ins with Bucciano. The guy is a nut case. Trust me when I say, the sooner we find Frank, the better off he'll be."

Joe nodded, his resolve solidifying. "Do you have a car?"

"Phil has half a dozen to pick from in the garage."

A couple minutes later, Joe was whistling in amazement. "A Jag, a BMW … ah man, a vintage Mustang?"

"Yeah, Phil has a weakness for nice cars, and the money to indulge it," Guy said. "The 'Stang is my favorite. It's a hard top, and purrs like a kitten. What do you think?"

"Does he have anything that doesn't cost a fortune? 'Cause if something happens to it, I hate to spend the rest of my life repaying for the damage."

Guy clapped Joe on the shoulder. "The BMW it is. Phil hates that car. It was his father's."

Joe's phone began playing Faith Hill's 'Breathe.' Usually hearing Van's ring tone put a smile on his face, but now he pulled it out with trepidation. "Hey, Van. How are you holding up?"

As he answered the phone, Guy had grabbed the key for the BMW, and gotten into the car.

"I was just about to ask you the same question. How are things in New Canaan?" Van asked pointedly.

Joe waved a hand frantically at Guy, but it was no use. Guy started the car.

"Joe Hardy, is that a car I hear?"

Joe ground his teeth together. "Vanessa, I cannot sit here in New Canaan while Frank is at Bucciano's mercy. Especially not when it's my fault he's there."

"Bull shit, Joe! You know none of this is your 'fault.' Frank would want you to stay in New Canaan and stay safe. And I know for a fact that the FBI has asked you to stay there. Going to Jersey City is just going to put both you and Guy at risk!"

Joe opened the passenger side door and dropped into the car. "Van, Guy knows people. I think we can kill two birds with one stone. I've got to give this a try, baby. Please understand."

"Joseph Fenton Hardy, what is wrong with you?

"Van, I'm going, and that's final. Frank wouldn't leave me hanging and I can't leave him. You know that."

Vanessa sighed audibly. "Please, Joe, please, please be careful. I can't bear it if both you and Frank are in trouble."

"I'll be careful, I promise. And so will Guy. I'll even give Dad a call, and let him know what we're up to."

"Good. Your dad is probably already in Jersey City. Promise me you'll call him."

"I will, baby, and I'll be fine . . . so will Frank."

As Joe closed his cell he wondered if he had made that last statement for Van's sake, or for his own.

The drug was finally starting to wear off. Frank knew it was wearing off because his head, shoulders and back ached. The pain wasn't helped by the fact that Bucciano had him on his back, spread eagle, tied to a four-poster bed. The mobster had taken all of his clothing off except his boxers, and it didn't feel like there was any heat on in the house. He was chilled to the bone, both physically and mentally. Whatever Bucciano had in mind, he knew it wasn't going to be pleasant.

To distract himself he examined what he could see of the bedroom in minute detail. It was fully furnished, but looked like it hadn't been used in a decade. The smell of stale smoke hung in the air almost as thick as the cobwebs hung from the bed posts and ceiling. The walls had been white once, but were now a depressing yellow-gray.

Craning his neck, he could see matching side tables flanking the bed. A highboy and a large dresser with a mirror lined two walls of the room. All of the furniture appeared to be matching, in a dark stain that lent its own gloom to the room; already dark due to what appeared to be plywood over the windows.

Frank flexed his arms and hands. He was definitely getting control of his muscles back. Too bad it was too late. In his current position he was pretty much helpless. The tethers that bound his wrists and ankles to the posts of the bed were pulled painfully tight. He was already feeling pins and needles starting in his hands and feet.

Bucciano had been gone for awhile. Frank flexed his muscles again, hoping to keep the blood flowing. His wrists were raw from trying to pull his hands through the tethers. Tied in intricate slip knots, each attempt had just tightened the bonds, and he had quickly had to admit defeat. Frank hung his hopes on the knowledge that the mobster had indulged himself by talking to Nancy on the cell when she called back. He knew they were looking for him. He had to have faith that they would find him.

"Well, well Frankie, I see the drug is wearing off. You've tied yourself into a nice tight knot there." Bucciano plucked at the tether holding Frank's right hand, and Frank winced as it tightened even further. "You would do better if you listened to me and just relaxed instead of trying to escape."

"You know, you could turn the heat up a little." Frank said.

Grabbing an upright chair from somewhere out of Frank's sight, Bucciano drew it up beside the bed near his head. Leaning his big, beefy arms across the back of the chair, Bucciano, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.

Bucciano blew a smoke ring, and watched it for several seconds before looking down at Frank and answering. "I'm afraid none of the utilities are on in the house. The plumbing's even been drained. This used to be a nice middle-class neighborhood, but not anymore. The house is a hole, and not worth a dime. But it's the only thing my loving parents ever gave me. Somehow that seems oddly appropriate – my parents leaving me a big empty shell of a worthless home."

Frank decided talking was likely much preferable to anything else Bucciano had in mind, and went along. "Guess that means no heat?"

Bucciano smirked. "Cute. Good to know you still have a sense of humor. Do you smoke, Frankie?"

"No."

Leaning the chair forward on two legs, Bucciano blew a stream of smoke into Frank's face. "I didn't figure. You had a prim and proper upbringing, didn't you, Frankie? You and that hot-headed brother of yours brought up in a perfect little family in suburbia. You got no idea what it's like on the streets, do ya, Frankie? I bet your mom baked you cookies every day, and your daddy took you to the baseball park."

Frank responded without thought. "Dad wasn't around a lot, and my aunt was more likely to be making cookies than my mom."

"Poor Frankie, neglected by his parents," Bucciano sneered

"We weren't neglected. When we were kids, our parents were just . . . busy," Frank said.

"Busy's good."

Bucciano lapsed into silence, apparently enjoying his cigarette, and Frank found his mind chewing over the man's last statement. When he and Joe were still fairly young, his dad had left the force, and his parents had gone to work to start a fledgling private investigating business – his mother putting in long hours to drum up business, do the accounting, and all the other administrative duties while his father worked longer hours doing the investigating that kept the money flowing.

They had been busy, but Frank wondered if it had been a good busy. His aunt had moved in with them because his parents were both gone a lot – Mom usually only through the day, but Dad sometimes days and even weeks at a time.

Bucciano snickered suddenly, shaking Frank from his thoughts. "I wish my father hadn't been around. I spent my share of time lying where you are. Well, not tied up, but it was my father, so I might as well have been. He was one screwed up MF'er, my old man. Is it any wonder Vicky and me turned out like we did?"

"Did your father abuse you?"

Leaning over Frank with the stub of a burning cigarette hanging out of his mouth, Bucciano looked at Frank with half a smile. "Did Daddy abuse me? Well, he only liked _me_ until I got too big to bully. Vic was never that lucky. Don't know if you noticed but my baby brother is a skinny runt. Poor kid took after Dad."

As he spoke, a clump of ashes fell off the end of his cigarette and landed on Frank's cheek. Frank jerked away, but the ashes had been hot and left a stinging spot on his face.

"Oops, sorry about that Frankie," Bucciano said as he brushed the ashes off his face. "Bad habit I picked up from Dad, I'm afraid. He was a pack-an-hour smoker. Of course, he liked using them, too."

Bucciano took the cigarette out of his mouth and stabbed it out on Frank's shoulder. Frank gritted his teeth against fleeting pain. Bucciano let the butt fall onto the bed, and Frank hoped like hell the butt was extinguished. Pulling out another cigarette, Bucciano spoke again.

"Yeah, the old man was into abuse. Tell me, Frankie, you and that pretty little girlfriend of yours have sex?"

Frank ground his teeth, unwilling to answer that question. He was getting a really bad feeling about where this discussion was going.

"Not talking anymore, huh?" Another long stream of smoke into Frank's face. "I bet she's a sweet lay. Vic would like her a lot. Me, I don't like nobody, except maybe my pervert brother. Thanks to Dad I'm a real live sociopath."

"So your father made you a sociopath? I don't buy it."

"He was my first kill. I bet you didn't know that, did you, Frankie?"

Bucciano carefully pressed the burning end of the cigarette into Frank's chest, eliciting a sharp hiss. He pulled it back, leaving a length of still-intact cigarette, which he re-lit.

Frank took a deep breath. "And how many people have you killed since?"

"I've lost count. Dad was the only one I ever killed without getting paid to do it. Though I suppose to be fair, old dad wasn't the only one to blame. My lush of a mother hardly helped the situation. While daddy was up here having his way she was more than likely passed out in the living room from her latest date with Jack Daniels. 'Course, if I'd been married to my bastard of a father, I might have decided the bottom of a bottle was a better place to live, too."

"Why didn't you leave?"

"We're a good Italian Catholic family, Frankie. We stay together, for better or worse."

This time the cigarette was snuffed lower on Frank's torso, still leaving enough to light again.

"So does that make you a martyr, or a moron?" Frank asked irritably. The little points of pain were more annoying than harmful, but Frank couldn't help wondering what this would lead up to.

"Ha, I'd say you were getting angry. Wonder what reaction I'll get after I finish this pack, and start on the next. Sounds like a fun little experiment in nature versus nurture. Whaddaya say, Frankie? Up for some psychological testing?"

"Does it matter what I say?"

"Not really. But we are going to have to hurry. I have a feeling we're only going to have tonight, maybe tomorrow morning. I'm sure your brother has the entire New York police force looking for us. Should be just enough time to serve my purposes, though."

"Which are?"

"To punish your brother, and protect mine."

A/N:

As always, thanks so much for the reviews. Those who submitted unsigned reviews, I thought I'd put a note here, since I can't PM you. To all my regular reviewers, thanks as always. I hope you received my PM, and please feel free to talk back!

Lydia, thanks so much. I can't tell you just how gratifying it is, as an author, to surprise the reader. I hope you continue to hang in there. It looks like I caught a few folks off guard with that last chapter. Yea!

Cary, thanks for the info. There appeared to be several muscle relaxants to choose from, but most have to be administered under doctor's care, precisely because of the respiratory suppression issue. That was my big hang-up, because I wanted Frank incapacitated, but not dead. Therein lies my artistic license ;) Thanks for the technical note!

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Looks like there are probably only four more chapters to go - one and a half of which are already written. Hopefully you all enjoy the ride to the end ;)


	21. Chapter 21

Usual disclaimers regarding ownership. I make no money from this, and don't have much anyway, so . . . on with the story!

**Chapter 21: Dolls & Disappointment**

Van sat curled up in the corner of the couch, fingering her cell phone. She had given Joe ten minutes, and then called Fenton herself to confirm that Joe had kept his promise.

Fenton, in return, had promised her that he would do his best to ensure Joe stayed safe. Somehow, it didn't make her feel any better. With Frank kidnapped by Bucciano, Joe running off to confront the mob, and Nancy on her way to an interview with Mitchel, Van felt at loose ends, and particularly useless.

Nancy walked in and dropped onto the other end of the couch. "Relax, Nancy." Her tone was mocking, her expression sour.

"They're right, you know. You need to relax and prepare for your meeting with Mitchel," George said as she walked over and sat in the arm chair nearest Nancy.

"Don't try that reasonable tone on me, Georgia. I'm not in the mood."

Bess laughed as she joined them, sitting between Nancy and Vanessa on the couch. "Such petulance, Nan. What are you, three?"

"So you're both going to start in on me?"

"Stuff the attitude, Nan," George said. "We're all worried about Frank, and Joe, and Guy . . . and you for that matter. You think you have more right to be angry then anyone else sitting here?"

Nancy rubbed her hands down her thighs. "You are just too damn reasonable for me right now, George. I need to be angry."

Van didn't understand that. "Why do you need to be angry?"

"Because if I'm not angry, I'm going to fall to pieces, and I'm no good to anyone then." Nancy's back was stiff, but her eyes reflected self-doubt. That was something Vanessa doubted was common in the young detective.

Bess patted her friend's shoulder. "You've always held it together when it was important, Nan. Now won't be any different."

"My boyfriend was never in the hands of a hit man before, either, Bess." Nancy's voice was soft, hesitant, worry evident in the deep lines etching her forehead.

Van looked over at her, and tried to help shake Nancy out of her apparent uncertainty. "All the more reason to hold it together. If being angry works, then get pissed. Bucciano has been dogging Frank's steps for the last two days, and Mitchel helped him. That pisses _me_ off."

Nancy seemed to consider Van's words seriously for several seconds. She sat forward, her expression clearing. "You're right, Van. Bucciano has been dogging Frank's steps. But Mitchel isn't in New York."

"Apparently not," Van said with a shrug, unsure why that was significant.

"So maybe Bucciano and Mitchel weren't here for the same reasons. Or, if they were, their reasons, at some point, diverged," Nancy said thoughtfully.

George's brow furrowed "I guess it makes sense if Mitchel brought Bucciano to Chicago for a hit on Frank, or Guy for that matter. But what are you thinking, Nan?"

"Bucciano has been black-listed by the DeCavalcantes, so he's not working a hit. He obviously followed the guys back to New York, but Mitchel is still here. Why?"

"Maybe he's still hoping for a story on the woman who took down the news team." Bess said teasingly.

Van was getting the distinct impression that Bess and George both played a roll in keeping Nancy on an even keel. Bess' comment, delivered in levity, didn't seem to have the desired effect on Nancy, though.

"That doesn't make sense, either. I mean, Frank and the identity theft ring have to be old news by now. Though I suppose . . . he was in the Society pages today . . . I don't know. I'm grasping, as Frank would put it." Nancy scrubbed her hands over her face.

"Relax, Nan. You're over-thinking," George said.

Nancy snapped, "Stop telling me to relax!" She stood, her expression contrite. "I'm sorry."

She strode out of the room. They could hear her talking to Riley and Jarvi in the dining room, the two men apparently serving as the new targets of her undirected anger.

Van turned to Bess. "She's kind of intense at times."

"Yeah, you get used to it," Bess said. "Nancy will be fine. She just needs a prod once in a while to keep her centered."

George nodded. "She tends to become overly analytical when she's stressed."

Bess shrugged. "Yeah, but once she decides on a course of action, she can get a little single-minded and reckless."

"Sounds a little like Frank _and_ Joe," Van said.

"There's a reason the three of them work so well together. Nan may not be as intuitive or daring as Joe. . ." Bess said.

George continued, "Or as logical or smart as Frank. But she's really good at integrating disjointed facts into a cohesive whole. She sure seems to have a bug up her butt about Mitchel."

"Definitely! I almost feel sorry for him. Nan's got him in her sights. He hasn't got a chance," Bess finished with a smile.

Van admired the loyalty of Nancy's friends. Frank and Joe both engendered that same kind of constancy in their friends.

From the corner, Matt's voice rang out. "Hey, Riley, Nan, get in here. I just noticed something that you might find interesting."

Van, George and Bess stood and joined Nancy, Riley and Dan behind Matt, crowding into the corner curiously.

Matt turned and noticed his audience. "Oh, uh, I'm not sure it's that interesting?"

"Just talk, Matt," Riley said.

"Well, I had been checking out the timeline that Nancy and Frank put together to figure out that Phillip and Guy had swapped places. Then I was going through and pulling everything I could find on Mitch Mitchel and thought it might be interesting to try something similar with his articles, which are all online. I noticed that Mitchel had done a perspective piece on a mob enforcer that showed up dead. Apparently the guy had embezzled money from the family, and been basically kicked out of the club, and then he had a heart attack or something. Anyway, I decided to cross-check Mitchel's mob-related articles and the subjects of the articles and see if there was any other pertinent info linking Mitchel to the subjects. You know, kind of explore the whole mob connection angle –"

"Get to the freaking punchline, kid," Riley said. "We gotta hit the road soon."

"Yeah, right. Uh, anyway, I noticed that sometimes, when Mitchel publishes a piece about a person associated in some way with the mob, that person ends up dead soon before or after."

"Murder victims tend to attract press attention. Mitchel was probably just chasing stories," Dan said.

"Yeah, I considered that, but most of these folks weren't murdered. There were a couple heart attacks, a severe allergic reaction, an aneurism. Almost all were believed to have died of natural causes. But Mitchel did a piece on each within a day or two of their deaths. It was actually the fact that they died of natural causes that made me look closer, because it seemed odd."

"So, what does it mean?" Nancy asked.

Matt shrugged. "You guys are the detectives. I'm just a computer geek. I just thought it was interesting."

"Interesting, yes. Pertinent, who knows. And, Matt, don't sell yourself short – you're one hell of a computer detective." Riley cuffed the young man on the shoulder. "Come on, we better get a move on, or Nancy's going to be late for her interview."

Van walked back to the couch, and re-curled herself into the corner. She was disappointed to once again find herself in the position of being the one sitting at home and waiting for news.

"I hate this waiting and worrying. How do you stand it?" Yvonne hadn't moved. She looked small and frail sitting in the big over-stuffed chair, her face pale and drawn, eyes wide with worry.

"Are you ok, Vanessa?" Bess asked.

Based on the worry she saw directed at her by Bess, she guessed she didn't look much better. "Twice in as many weeks I'm sitting on my hands waiting for news. I'm with Yvonne, I hate it."

George nodded. "It does suck, but you have to trust them to make it through this. Nan's never let us down, and neither have Frank and Joe. And between the three of them, they've been through more than their fair share of close scrapes."

"What if this is the time their luck runs out?" Van asked despondently.

Bess forced a grin. "It isn't luck, they're just that good."

Van looked at Bess for several seconds, and then gave a confident nod. "You're right. I just need to be reminded every once in awhile."

Laughter bubbled out of Bess' lips. "God knows if you're marrying Joe Hardy you're going to get lots of practice at this, Van. I don't think I could take it, and I grew up with Nan as a best friend!"

Van and George joined in Bess' laughter. Vanessa allowed her faith in Joe's, Frank's and Nancy's abilities to buoy her spirit, while Bess and George helped lighten the mood. Glancing over, she noticed that Yvonne had not even cracked a smile, her posture still stiff.

While she couldn't help resolve the situation, Van decided she could at least help Yvonne deal with the stress of the waiting.

After all, she did have lots of practice.

"I hate having you in my head, Riley," Nancy muttered as she put a finger up to her ear to assure herself, again, that the earpiece wasn't noticeable.

"Poor baby. Suck it up, and stop fiddling with the bud. He'll never see it." Riley's voice sounded in her ear.

"Ok, I'm almost at the coffee shop. Shut up."

"So rude."

"Please."

Nancy scanned the interior of the coffee shop as she walked past the picture window toward the entryway. She spotted Mitchel at a corner table. He already had two cups sitting in front of him. She made her way across the crowded coffee shop toward him.

"Hello, Mr. Mitchel. It's nice to meet you again." Nancy held out a hand.

One of Mitchel's eyebrows disappeared up into his wavy black bangs as an amused half smile graced his aquiline face. He shook her hand and then waved her to the seat across the table from him.

"I'm just glad you chose a handshake rather than a face plant as a greeting this time."

Nancy knew an apology was probably expected, though in all honesty, she didn't feel all that repentant. "I'm sorry about that. I'm afraid you caught me off-guard."

"I would bet that catching you off-guard is difficult." Mitchel pushed a coffee container toward her. "Light on the cream, no sugar?"

"How did you know how I take my coffee?" Nancy suddenly felt wary, but made a conscious effort to hide it. That was the kind of almost intimate detail that a complete stranger should not know.

"I'm a keen observer of the human condition, Ms. Drew. Or may I call you Nancy?" He acknowledged Nancy's nod and took a sip of his coffee. "For example, I quickly realized just why you were so reluctant to tread on Frank Hardy's story. How long have you two been seeing one another?"

Nancy took the lid off her coffee and blew on it watching Mitchel through the rising steam. "So, is this the official start of the interview?"

He smiled, and Nancy had to admit that Bess was right. He was attractive, in a self-satisfied, superior sort of way, when he wasn't shoving a microphone in your face.

"I suppose it could be. I was very interested when I heard that Hardy had been aided by a young woman detective from Chicago. It seems to me that your story is worth telling. If it includes a little romance, so much the better. My lady readers eat that kind of thing up."

"Frank and I have known each other since we were kids," Nancy offered.

"So he's just an old friend?"

"I didn't say that."

"Are you going to be this forthcoming during the entire interview?"

Nancy shrugged. She got the impression that Mitchel enjoyed a challenge, and she planned to oblige him.

"I'm afraid it's a habit. I'd hate to make this too easy on you. By the way, I have a couple questions of my own."

Mitchel took another sip of his coffee. "Did I put too much cream in?"

"Huh?" Nancy followed his gaze down to her coffee cup. "Oh, no, it's fine. It's just very hot."

"Would you like me to go get you some ice?"

"Um, sure."

Riley's voice sounded in her ear. "What's up?"

Nancy turned her head toward the wall as if examining the artwork hanging there. "He's getting me ice for my coffee."

"Accommodating, isn't he?"

Mitchel returned with a small cup of ice chips. "Here you go. They always keep the coffee too freaking hot in these places."

"Thanks," Nancy said.

She dropped a few ice chips into the cup, and then looked up at Mitchel. He was watching her with a curious intensity that made her uncomfortable. She was definitely going to watch her step with him.

"Where's your camera man?" She asked.

"Who knows? After Frank and Joe got us thrown out of the hotel, he just took off. The guy was a psycho. Sometimes I wonder where they find them."

Nancy couldn't tell if Mitchel was telling the truth or not. It sounded plausible enough, but something about the answer seemed almost too pat. Perhaps a more direct query was in order.

"So you didn't know your camera man was Vito Bucciano, the mob hit man?"

Mitchel raised his eyebrows and snorted. "No. You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not kidding. Associating with mobsters is an unhealthy practice, Mr. Mitchel."

"Please, call me Mitch, and trust me, I know associating with the mob is dangerous business. My usual cameraman had the flu, and they sent me him. He told me his name was Bill Smith. Is that why you decided to talk to me?"

"Part of the reason. If you know anything about Bucciano's plans, I need to know."

"You know, your coffee is probably cool now." Mitchel said.

"No, it's still hot," Nancy said, dumping in more ice. She was beginning to get more than a little suspicious, and heard Riley hiss in her ear. 'Don't drink the freaking coffee. I'll be right in.'

"As far as Bucciano, or whatever you called him. I have no clue why he was here. Why are you asking?"

Nancy shrugged. "If you don't know anything, then I guess it doesn't really matter why I'm asking.

She saw Riley come in, miming to her to pick up her cup and stick her elbow out. She did as instructed.

"Mm, I think it's finally cool enough to drink," She said with a smile.

Riley walked by and knocked her elbow, spilling the contents of the cup all over the table and floor.

"Shit!" Mitchel leapt up from the table and turned a furious glare on Riley, who had stopped and was apologizing profusely.

"I'm so sorry. Here, let me clean that up for you." He handed Mitchel a ten dollar bill. "Really, I'm so sorry. I'll take care of this. Why don't you go get your lady friend another coffee on me." Riley began using napkins from the table to sop the spilled coffee into the nearly empty cup.

Mitchel headed up to the counter to replace Nancy's coffee, while she helped Riley clean up the mess.

"Watch yourself, Drew," Riley murmured before he walked out the back entrance, carrying the coffee cup with him.

Mitchel returned several minutes later. "Where did that guy go? I've got his change."

"He took off out the back door. I think he was embarrassed."

"Well, here. Drink it fast before we take another bath." Mitchel chuckled.

Nancy put some ice chips in the new coffee. "Um, could you get me a spoon?"

Mitchel sighed. "Sure."

While he was gone, Nancy surreptitiously dumped half of the coffee in the cup into the trash can behind her.

When Mitchel returned Nancy accepted the spoon with a thank you and stirred her coffee to dissolve another deposit of ice cubes. "The coffee is good," she said.

He glanced in her cup, and nodded. "You took my advice to heart, huh? Looks like you guzzled it."

Nancy grinned. "After all this time I was getting thirsty. So, Mitch, that pretty much wraps up my questions. What do you want to know?"

He leaned forward and pinned her with an intense gaze. "I'd like to hear your side of the story."

"It's no different then what Frank's been saying."

Mitchel snorted and shook his head. "Indulge me. Tell me what happened in your own words."

Nancy took a deep breath, and spoke quickly, mimicking Matt's performance when he was telling them what he had found on Mitchel this morning.

"Frank discovered the anomaly in the death claims data when he was reviewing it as a case study for his thesis. We knew something was up when Kendall flew off the handle about Frank having a copy of the database. I joined Frank and we spent an afternoon at the Main Branch Library in New York searching for potential identity matches, while Joe did the follow-up research back at the office."

Nancy swirled her coffee. What happened next made her think starkly about Frank's current predicament, and took her a moment to squelch the rising panic that threatened to overwhelm her everytime she thought about it.

"When we were leaving, a bunch of thugs jumped us and hauled us up to Harrington, apparently to make sure Frank hadn't made any copies of his version of the database, which hadn't yet been sanitized. We were able to escape, and hiked through the woods to the Military Academy. Unfortunately, another mob accomplice had told the MPs that we were wanted criminals, so they threw us in jail. Luckily, Joe and Lieutenant Biff Hooper, a friend of the Hardy's showed up just in time to keep Frank and I from ending up in hot water again. The bad guys were all rounded up. The Bureau made their busts. And here we are."

"How can you make such a harrowing experience sound so boring?" Mitchel asked with a shake of his head.

"I'm not the journalist, Mitch." Nancy threw her hands out in an expansive 'I don't know' motion, and knocked her coffee over, emptying what remained of the contents on the table and floor.

She groaned. "I think that's some kind of sign. I'm done with coffee for the day."

Mitchel laughed. "Good, because we're getting dirty looks. Why don't we slog on out of here and take a walk in the park. We'll talk about some more of the details so we can prep for the official interview. I'm afraid I'm doing my own camera work today." He patted his shoulder pack.

"You want to go to Lincoln Park?"

"Yeah, it's not far. I was wandering around there before our meeting and found a nice quiet spot with a bench where we could conduct the interview."

Riley's voice sounded in her ear. "I don't think that's a good idea, Nancy."

"Lincoln Park it is, then. I think I need to stop by the lady's room before we leave."

In her ear Riley muttered, "Damn it, Drew."

In the park, they wandered around for a few minutes while Mitchel plied her with questions about what had happened after she and Frank were kidnapped last week. Then Mitchel led her to a quiet glade with a bench. People could be heard walking by, but they were far enough off the path and screened by trees and shrubs to be unnoticeable.

Nancy took a seat while Mitchel set up his camera tripod. It was a beautiful day, sunny and unseasonably warm. Nancy was wishing she could shed her jacket, but was unwilling. It was the only thing concealing her weapon.

"So, you were actually the one who took Kendall down?" Mitchel asked as he attached the camera to the tripod.

"I knocked him to the ground, if that's what you mean. I hardly 'took him down' – you make me sound like a WWF wrestler or something."

Nancy pushed her hair back off her forehead and swiped at the sweat.

"Are you getting drowsy, Nancy?"

"I think it warmed up a little too quickly for me." Nancy sat back, and allowed her eyes to close half way.

"I think it's pleasant. Tell me something, Nancy, will Frank miss you?"

"Miss me?" Nancy asked drowsily. "What are you talking about?"

"I hope it's some consolation that you won't feel a thing. I dosed the cup pretty heavily. I'm surprised you've lasted this long."

"What did you do?" Nancy allowed a note of panic to enter her tone. The son of a bitch _had_ tried to slip her something. She made a mental note to thank Matt for his eleventh hour discovery.

She had a strong urge to wipe the smug smile off Mitchel's face, but she squelched it. He seemed willing to talk, and the more information she could lull out of him, the better. He had turned on the camera, trained on her. That was interesting.

"Actually, this is the first time I've tried this particular drug. It seemed almost too pedestrian. But since I was taking you in the middle of the afternoon, I knew I was going to have to be particularly careful, and crafty."

"Crafty?" This guy was unreal, preening in front of the camera as he paced in front of her.

"Yes. It took me longer than usual to get this hit set up. I don't know Chicago very well, and everything had to be perfect. I don't take chances. I've never even been on a suspect list because I'm just another face in the rabble of reporters. The mob bosses don't even know who I am. When they want me, they ask for the Pharmicist. Someday, that name will be known . . . and feared."

"How long?" Nancy had leaned back, keeping her eyes at half mast as she followed Mitchel's movements carefully. He apparently thought she wasn't going anywhere. She wondered what he had tried to dose her with. She assumed she was supposed to be sleepy, unable to move? She figured the longer she could keep up the pretense the deeper the narcissistic bastard would bury himself. It seemed appropriate that he was taping his own confession.

"Nearly four years. It started out as a fortuitous coincidence. The Gambino family and I happened to have a mutual enemy that I took care of. My phantom identity started then, in the underground and I started getting job offers. My reputation quickly developed as not only efficient by subtle. At times, even the mob likes a hit to go unnoticed. My skills lend themselves to that."

Nancy rolled her head back, and mumbled, "Why?"

Mitchel's smug smile broadened, as he stopped angled in front of her so the camera was shooting his good side, she was sure. His voice was quiet as he began to explain his entire plan.

"It was a brilliant manipulation of the entire situation on my part, really. The DeCavalcantes want revenge for the mess with the identity theft ring, but they don't want to tip off the Bureau and bring down any more scrutiny on themselves. It was just luck that I happened to be there when the cops busted Bucciano's pervert brother. Actually, I should thank Joe Hardy for attacking me – that's why I made an impression on Vito. He approached me after his brother was convicted, looking for dirt on the Hardy brothers, figuring I was an ally of sorts. Then just over a week later, when the DeCavalcantes approached me about taking out the trio responsible for their problems, I saw an opportunity to take out three birds with one stone."

"I heard Joe Hardy was planning to take his fiancé to Chicago for vacation and I knew Frank Hardy had plans to visit U of I mid-week and I figured he would be stopping by to see you. The stars were aligning to have you all in the same city, away from New York, for at least a few days. Luckily I had contingencies, because I didn't plan for the FBI babysitters that Hardy brought with him. That was a pain in the ass. Luckily, I'd brought Bucciano as a backup. I just had to push the right buttons with that psycho."

Mitchel's face flashed with self-congratulations. "It's the first time I've ever used another person as a weapon – a particularly canny move on my part. I managed to get a message to the DeCavalcantes to black-list Bucciano, so they couldn't be connected with the hit. Frank and Joe Hardy are as good as dead. That just leaves me you to deal with."

Mitchel walked over and lifted her eyelids in turn with his thumb. "You must not have gotten as much as I thought you did," He said curiously.

He reached into her jacket for her gun, but Nancy beat him to it, and pulled it out. It took Mitchel a moment to realize that she wasn't as pliable as he had thought, and by then she had him pushed onto the bench, her gun pressed into his shoulder.

"What the hell?"

"Riley, it's time. We're in a glade off the south end of the pond."

She heard, 'On our way.' Just as Mitchel said, "Who are you talking you? You aren't wired. I checked."

"Not wired, but not alone, either."

Mitchel's face reflected his disbelief, eyes wide, mouth slack. "I thought you drank the coffee."

Nancy shook her head with a smile, "Thanks to my friend, I didn't. I'm afraid your careful planning was all for nothing, Mitch."

Mitchel's smug smile was gone. In its place was a burning, spiteful fury that made Nancy smile. She loved the part when the bad guy realized he'd been had.

"Now, since you were so forthcoming, I know you know what Bucciano is up to, so how about we revisit my earlier questions."

The smug smile was trying to make a reappearance. "He got to the Hardys, didn't he?"

Nancy jabbed the gun into his shoulder, eliciting a grunt. "Tell me what you know."

"Or what? Are you going to shoot me, Nancy?"

"No."

"Then why should I tell you anything more?"

"Because, if you don't, I'll make damn sure the Pharmacist goes to jail as a total unknown – all those lovely, intricate hits of yours never credited to _you_. You're very pretty. I'm sure you'll be popular. Of course, as a known hit man, you might gain some respect."

Mitchel's lips were pressed into a thin line. "Bitch."

"So, Mitch, what were Bucciano's plans?"

Mitchel let out a bark of laughter, fading to a taunting smile. "But see, that's the beauty of it. I don't know. I just know he planned to take revenge on Joe Hardy for putting his brother away, and that he planned to use Frank Hardy to do it. If it were me, I'd kidnap both of them and make Joe watch while I killed Frank, nice and slow. And then, I'd snuff Joe. That sounds like Bucciano's style."

"He didn't say anything about what his plans were?"

"Only thing he ever said to me was that he figured he could get his revenge and protect his brother in the process."

"His brother's in jail. How's he going to protect him?"

Mitchel shrugged. "Not my problem. Vic is a real pervert. Vito kept muttering about what happened to wimpy rapists in jail. Apparently, his brother was taking a beating. That's all I know."

Nancy took a step back, and looked up as Riley and Matt came forward.

"Jarvi sent us some backup." He urged Mitchel up from the bench, and held his arm, as an FBI agent that had followed him into the glen cuffed the man.

"Thanks to Mitchel, we got all of it on tape." Nancy watched as Matt retrieved the memory card from the camera, which another FBI agent promptly took and placed into an evidence bag.

"You know, Drew, I'm really questioning whether you should be hanging around those Hardy brothers. The three of you together are like a trouble super-magnet," Riley said as the agent that had cuffed Mitchel, began to escort him out of the glen, reading him his rights.

Nancy snorted, unamused. "The analogy I used was a black hole, but same idea. Any news yet?"

"Jarvi said Hank is in surgery. His odds are pretty good. The air bags apparently did their job," Riley said.

Nancy stared at Riley for several seconds, almost afraid to ask the follow-up question. "Nothing about Frank or Bucciano, yet?"

"I'm afraid not, kiddo." Riley said quietly.

Mitchel pulled away from his escort and turned to smirk at Nancy. "Bucciano did get to one of the Hardys, huh? I hope you said goodbye, Nancy."

Nancy turned her back on Mitchel and focused on Riley. "I hope to hell Joe has better luck with Guy's sources."

Riley squeezed her shoulder. "Keep the faith, Drew. We'll find Frank."

She nodded mutely. She was afraid to open her mouth. Afraid that if she did, she would totally lose it. She hadn't realized just how much of her hope had been hinging on learning something useful from Mitchel. But there was still Joe and Guy. They had to learn something.

Riley tried to distract her. "I guess it's a good thing I took that coffee, huh?"

Nancy smiled ruefully and nodded. She turned to Matt, "I owe you a big one, Matt."

"Any time, Nan." Turning to Riley, he asked uncertainly, "What did I do?"

**A/N:**

Thanks, again, to everyone who reviewed! I ended up splitting this chapter into two – so this one is all Vanessa and Nancy. The next chapter, I promise, is all Joe and Frank. Sorry, I had to draw out the tension a little longer. I'm just evil that way ;)

Three more little chapters to go. I hope you're enjoying the last of this story!


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy's, Nancy Drew, or any of the related characters. Plot and OCs are all mine, for better or worse, as are all those pesky little typos that got through :) Happy reading!

**Chapter 22: Guys & Game-plans**

"Do you understand what you're supposed to do, Mr. Mancini?"

"I understand, but I don't like it," Guy muttered.

Joe put a hand on his friend's shoulder. He felt like a shrimp standing next to Guy. He took comfort in the fact that even his brother looked short next to the towering Adonis. The thought of Frank unsettled him, but did serve to firm his resolve. This had to work.

"Come on, Guy. I thought you understood why we were doing this."

Guy crossed his arms, watching as Joe was fitted with a wire by an FBI agent.

"I said I understand, but I still think I should at least try to pay the debt off."

"You know there is no way in hell they're going to let you pay off your dad's debt and walk away, Guy - you're worth too much with your connection to Whitney."

"You're probably right. But I can't help thinking I'd be better off on my own. I can feed you out the info I'm able to uncover about Bucciano. Besides, your dad doesn't look too happy about you coming in with me."

"Dad may not be happy about it, but he understands why I'm going in. This is the only way we can short-circuit your integration into the organization. While I'm in there, I'm hoping to learn something . . . anything to help us find Frank. I'm really counting on the shared enemy angle to work for us." Joe looked into Guy's eyes intently, willing him to go along with the plan.

"This was supposed to be simple." Guy looked despondent, and Joe didn't really blame him, he was in a no win situation.

Joe didn't feel like his position was much better, but he was hoping this would be an end-game play. So far, even with all of law enforcement in greater New York on the look out for Bucciano they had come up empty handed. And even with Liesle's techies scouring the records there were no leads on Vito, Victor or any of their family. They were like ghosts who had landed out of nowhere and flitted through the mob world leaving no trace of history. They had to get a lead or they would never find Frank.

Besides, he was tired of screwing around with the DeCavalcante family, and wanted it over once and for all. His thoughts wandered to Frank, wishing he was here to help. He pushed thoughts of his brother out of his head forcefully. He couldn't afford the distraction right now.

An hour later, he and Guy were being escorted through the rear entrance of a pool hall, flanked by four behemoth men who did nothing to improve Joe's feelings of impending doom. Guy had found his contacts with little trouble, and convinced them to take them to the leadership of the DeCavalcante family. They had been far too obliging of the request. Nothing about their current situation was good.

"What have you gotten me into, Guy?" Joe asked through the side of his mouth.

Guy leaned down and hissed, "You said you wanted to find your brother. Hopefully they're taking us to see the underboss. He should be able to give us some idea about where Bucciano is holding him."

"Hopefully," Joe snorted.

Who in their right mind wanted to go see an underboss of any mob family, let alone one that likely wanted to see them dead? Frank would have talked him out of this . . . or been here beside him. If he wasn't already in a hit man's clutches. Joe shoved his brother out of his head, again. He needed to focus.

Their little procession came to a halt outside of a locked door, where one of their escorts knocked. Prompted from the inside, he said, "Mancini and Hardy to see Gino."

Joe felt Guy stiffen beside him, and turned to look at him. Guy mouthed, 'the boss' and Joe's nerves buzzed with the adrenalin surge. He felt like he was in way over his head, especially without Frank. Damn. Focus, Joe, focus.

Ushered through the door, two of their four escorts remained outside the door, and the other two stood just inside the door. Behind his desk, Gino DeCavalcante swiveled his high-backed office chair to face them.

"Mr. Mancini. Mr. Hardy. Please, sit."

They did as instructed, each sitting in a straight-backed wood chair lined up in front of Gino's massive desk. Joe heard the door shut with a resounding thud, and he felt, rather than heard their escorts take up stations behind them. Dread slipped prickly fingers up the back of Joe's neck, as Gino steepled his fingers and leaned forward, elbows on the desk.

Gino was an imposing hulk of a man. The DeCavalcantes apparently bred themselves with bears, because Joe was definitely the smallest person in the room. Gino looked like he had to turn sideways to get his shoulders through a door. He had a blocky face and strong jaw, with wide-set dark eyes. Those soulless eyes were currently focused on a spot somewhere between Joe and Guy.

"So, you wanted to see me. I must admit, I'm surprised. It takes balls for either of you to request an audience with me."

His attention focused on Guy. "Mr. Mancini. It's been a few years. What brings you back?"

"I want to repay what my father owed you, Mr. DeCavalcante," Guy said. Joe shot an angry glance at him. That wasn't part of the plan.

"Tell you what, kid. You come home, back where you belong, and we'll forget all about the money. I've seen your work. I have a place for someone like you in my organization."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather just pay back the money," Guy's voice was flat, almost angry. Joe ground his teeth in irritation.

"So you can go back to your rich father-in-law?"

Guy's jaw clenched. "I think you and I both know I can't go back. Whitney's never gonna accept _me_ as a son-in-law."

Gino gave Guy a sympathetic smile. "Glad to hear you've come to your senses, kid." The smile disappeared when he turned to Joe. "And you, Mr. Hardy. I assume you want to know where your brother is. I'm afraid you're barking up the wrong tree. Mr. Bucciano does not work for me."

"I know that. But you know him better than I do. I hoped -"

"That I'd help you? A young man and his brother, both of whom have been nothing but a thorn in my side for the last six months. Why in the Good Lord's name would I help you?"

Gino jerked his head at the goon behind Joe, who stepped forward, gripped the front of Joe's button-up shirt and ripped it open, revealing the wire. Gino's eyes had gone cold and hard.

"And tell me something, Hardy, is that supposed to be a sign of good faith? You come into my office wired, like a little fucking stooge."

Guy's eyes had gone wide. "I thought we agreed we came in clean. You promised me you were alone."

"I'm sorry, Guy. I didn't have any choice." Joe lunged out of his chair and planted his hands on Gino's desk, looking at the mobster with a bravado he definitely didn't feel. "I need to know what you know about Vito Bucciano. You know he's going to be pissed that you've black-listed him, Gino. Help me find Frank, and Vito goes away for a long time."

Gino smirked. "You definitely got balls, kid. But what makes you think I know anything about Bucci that your fed friends don't?"

The goon that had ripped his shirt open put a beefy hand on Joe's shoulder and slammed him back into the chair.

Joe barely noticed. "Bucci or Bucciano?"

"Bucci, Bucciano, whatever. Vito and Vic reclaimed their Italian roots once they were free of their father. Valentino dropped the 'ano' from his name when he came over here from the old country – like it would change the fact that he was a bottom-feeder if he Americanized his name." Gino obviously didn't think much of Vito's family line.

The sound of the back door being broken in caught the attention of the room's occupants just before the room swarmed with FBI agents shouting orders.

They took everyone but Joe into custody. Guy glared at Joe furiously as he was led out of the room. "I thought you were my friend."

Gino muscled his way next to Guy. "Forget him, kid. You're back where you belong. They got nothin' to hold us on."

Joe's father walked through the door and put a hand on Joe's shoulder. "I'm sorry it didn't work out, Joe. We had to come in when the wire was discovered. I didn't want to take any chances."

"You got your cell, Dad?"

His father pulled it out and handed it over. "Why?"

"It wasn't a total bust, Dad. We need to find Valentino Bucci. Vito and Vic changed their last name after their dad passed. That's gotta get us a lead we can use."

As Joe waited for Liesle's second-in-command to answer the phone, he found himself sending up a prayer that it got them the lead they needed to find Frank. It had been too long already.

"Morris." Came the curt greeting at the FBI high tech crime unit.

"Hi, Morris, it's Joe Hardy. I have a new name for you to run - Valentino Bucci."

"Hang on a sec."

Joe could hear fingers tapping over keys with a lightening speed that he could only dream of attaining.

"Ah, here we go. Valentino and Sara Bucci. They lived in the old Curtain district of Jersey City. Most of that tract is scheduled for demolition now, but I think the houses are still standing."

"Sounds like a great place to go if you don't want visitors," Joe said.

"Exactly. I've got the address out on the wire already. We'll have a team there right away."

"Let me talk to him."

The tone of his father's voice brooked no argument, and Joe immediately handed the phone over, just as the Agent in charge of the team that had set up this sting walked in and motioned to him.

"Joe, we need you to come with us. We'll have to get statements."

"But we think we know where Frank is," Joe protested.

Mr. Hardy snapped the phone shut and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "You go with them, Joe. I'm headed to meet with the team checking out the Bucci residence. I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

"But Dad . . ."

"No but's, Joseph. You did what you came to do – you got us a solid lead on where your bother is. Let the Bureau handle the rest."

"You can't be serious! I'm certain Frank is there. We have to go get him."

"You aren't going anywhere near Bucciano – you were his ultimate target to begin with. You've taken enough risks for tonight."

"Damn it, I'm not going to just twiddle my thumbs –"

"You're sitting this one out, and that's final, Joseph! Besides, I promised Vanessa I'd do my best to keep you out of trouble."

Joe watched his father leave the room at a trot. It took all of his self-control not to stomp his foot in irritation at being left behind.

"Let's go, Joe. I want to get this wrapped up tonight, and I'm going to need your statement, especially about what happened after the wire went dead."

Joe winced at the Agent's choice of words. "Fine. Let's wrap this up so I can go see my brother."

He recognized the pity in the Agent's face. The Bureau had written Frank off hours ago based on Bucciano's normal mode of operation. But Joe knew his brother was still alive.

Frank had to still be alive.

"You're looking a little pale, Frankie. Need a break?" Bucciano's face hovered over him. Frank nodded and allowed his eyes to drift shut.

It had gotten dark awhile ago, though Frank was no longer certain how long he had been tied to the bed. When the light had faded from the room, Bucciano had lit candles, which became just another torture device in the hitman's arsenal. He seemed particularly enamored of hot things, though anything that could inflict pain or humiliation was within bounds.

It had been some time since Frank had been able to feel his hands or feet. Bucciano kept tweaking the bindings tighter and tighter, until every limb was so over-extended that any attempt to flex muscles to keep the blood flowing resulted in agonizing cramps.

Frank allowed his mind to drift away from the dingy room and his tormentor. He was finding it easier to deal with what was happening if he just pretended reality was a dream, and his dreams were reality. He couldn't think rationally about what Bucciano was doing, anyway, because there was nothing rational about it. If this was what Victor and Vito Bucciano had suffered at the hands of their own father, Frank could only feel pity for them.

A loud crash brought Frank back to reality with a jolt, and he waited for the pain that inevitably accompanied such an event. It took several seconds for him to realize that Bucciano was no longer the only person in the room. He heard a jumble of voices around him.

"You're under arrest. You have the right . . ."

"Sweet Jesus, get the paramedics up here . . ."

"Frank, can you hear me?"

The last voice, he recognized. He opened his eyes and tried to focus on the face he thought was his father's. "Dad?"

"Hang on, son. The paramedics are on their way up."

When the tethers were freed, Frank felt fleeting relief before the blood started rushing into his extremities and he couldn't stifle the involuntary cry at the onslaught of a new kind of pain. He felt strong arms cradle him like a child, and knew his father was trying to quiet him even as two other men started examining him. His pain-blurred mind was trying to wrap itself around the fact that the worst was over – that Bucciano couldn't hurt him anymore.

He heard someone say he was dehydrated, but panicked when he felt a needle prick his arm. His father held him down, logically explaining to him what was happening as the paramedics got the IV started. Whatever they gave him, it wasn't just fluids because it took only a short time before the pain that seemed to encompass every nook and cranny of his body finally slipped away.

Frank mumbled, "Thank you." Before closing his eyes and allowing welcomed pain-free sleep to overtake him.

When Frank woke, he found himself in a sanitary hospital room, illuminated by the light streaming in from a street lamp outside the window.

He jumped when the shadowy figure sitting beside the bed moved, but relaxed when his father said, "It's late. You should go back to sleep. Do you need something for the pain?"

Frank used the bed control to raise his head but quickly decided to stop when his head started pounding. His arms, legs, back and neck all ached. The burns that covered him from his torso to his upper legs had all been cleaned and dressed, and were no longer as painful as they had been. Other parts of him ached, too, but he preferred not to think about it. The ordeal was over, and he was determined to put it behind him.

"I could use something."

His father leaned forward and pressed the call button, meeting the nurse at the door and requesting the pain reliever before sitting back down by the bed.

"Your mother and brother were by earlier, but I told them I would sit with you tonight. Nancy and Vanessa should be here in the morning."

"Guy?"

"Well, the original plan was to have Guy help get enough on the DeCavalcante's to take them down, but as it turns out, that won't be necessary. Once Mitchel started talking, the Bureau had enough to put an end to that particular family, and make a hell of a dent in many of the families on the East Coast."

"Mitchel? Geez, I feel like I slept through the end of the movie."

"I'll catch you up. Nancy arranged a meet and greet with Mitch Mitchel, the news reporter with Channel 9 . . ."

"Yeah, we knew she was planning to."

"Well, luckily, that young man that works with her, the one who does the computer work . . ."

"Matt," Frank supplied.

"Yes, Matt had found some information that seemed inconsequential at the time, but turned out to be a huge clue. Turns out Mitchel has been moonlighting as a hit man for the mob. Lucky for Nancy that she and Riley recognized the implications before Mitchel could carry out his plan."

Frank felt a surge of fear. "Is Nan alright?"

"She's fine."

The nurse came in, and handed Frank a small plastic cup with two pills in it. She poured him a glass of water while he used the bed controls to lift his head to a more upright position, wincing at the pain the movement elicited.

"These will probably make you sleepy. That's perfectly normal, it's just the codeine. You really should try to get some rest, anyway." She cast a warning look at Frank's father, and then watched solicitously as Frank took his medicine.

"Now get some sleep. Doctor's orders."

Frank mumbled something confirmatory, but after the nurse left the room, he looked at his dad and prompted, "So, Mitchel was the hit man all along?"

"Yes. He worked anonymously, known only as the Pharmacist. He's been freelancing for the mob for the last three or four years. The Bureau offered him a deal for names. Dan said it would be the last straw for the DeCavalcante family, and it's going to take a toll on several others. It should get Guy off the hook once and for all. And, they have enough on Bucciano to put him away for a good long time, too."

Frank felt an odd combination of relief and dismay at that final statement. "That was what he wanted. Bucciano wanted to be caught, Dad."

"What do you mean?"

"He told me he wanted to punish my brother and protect his –"

"Mitchel told Nancy that he'd said basically the same thing to him."

"He never intended to kill me. If he had, I'd be dead. He wanted to get caught for an assault charge. That way he'd end up in the same prison as his brother, and could protect him."

"Well, I guess he's going to get what he wanted. There's not much to be done about it, I suppose. You'll have to share that fact with the feds when they visit. I know they're going to want a statement from you tomorrow."

His father lapsed into silence, and Frank leaned his head back and let the comfortable, quiet presence of his father lull the lingering anxiety from his mind. He was sure that the effects of the codeine were probably helping, too.

"I'm just glad it's over," Frank finally said quietly.

"Do you want to talk about what happened, Frank?

His father's concern pitched his voice low. Frank considered the question seriously before answering.

"Not really."

"The doc said that he could order therapy if you thought it would help."

"Maybe. I don't know. Guess I'll have to think about it." Frank stared over his father's bowed head at the street light that shone in the window. The next words seemed to come out of their own volition.

"When Bucciano first . . . started, he just seemed to want to talk. He asked me about my childhood, and then proceeded to tell me about his. I'm guessing he didn't do anything to me that his father hadn't done to him a dozen times over. I just can't comprehend it, Dad. How . . . could a parent do that to their own child?"

"I don't know, son. I can't comprehend it either."

"And to think that I complained to him about you and Mom never being around when Joe and I were young." Frank gave a dry laugh.

His father's head snapped up. "We were around, we were just busy, Frank. Trying to start a new business takes a lot of time and effort."

"I know." Frank almost whished he could take back what he had said.

"We were doing it for you and Joe, and for our family."

"I know." Frank couldn't meet his father's gaze. This was a touchy subject - one that he and Joe had discussed on a few occasions, but that neither of them had ever broached with their parents – before now.

"I know you were busy, Dad, and I know why you were doing it. It's just . . . there were times when I would have liked to have had _you_ there cheering me on at little league rather than Aunt Gertrude."

"I was busy making the money that allowed you to join little league, Frank."

"I would have given up little league if it meant you were home to toss the ball around with me in the back yard, Dad. Don't you see that that would have meant more to me then all the money in the world? It wasn't until Joe and I got old enough to help you with casework that we ever got to spend much time with you at all. It's not that I had a bad childhood, I didn't. It's just that I wish you'd been more a part of it."

"I never knew you felt that way."

Even with his mind becoming sluggish from the meds, Frank recognized the sadness in his father's voice. He knew he shouldn't have brought the subject up.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. It's just, I guess, it's something I've thought a lot about. I want to be successful in my career, but I also want to make sure I have time to be a part of my children's lives. I want to go to baseball games, and . . . dance recitals, and . . ." Frank couldn't stifle the yawn. "I don't know. Maybe I should thank you. Missing out on your presence in my childhood made me realize how important it is to me that I'm there for my own kids."

"I was always there for you and your brother when it counted, Frank." His father took his hand and squeezed.

"Yeah, Dad, you were . . . are." Frank's eyes drifted shut. The pain reliever was definitely taking effect, dulling all of the aches, and lulling Frank into a hazy stupor.

"I love you, son."

"I love you too, Dad," Frank mumbled before slipping into a restful sleep.

Fenton Hardy lowered the head of the bed, and then carefully tucked the blankets around his 24-year-old son, wracking his brain to remember whether he had ever taken the time to do it when Frank was four.

Not normally one for regrets, he leaned back in the chair and watched Frank sleep. He would make damn sure he was a better grandfather than father. And he hoped he'd be able to help Frank keep his promise about not letting his career get in the way of his family. Fenton knew from experience that it was easy to lose sight of those promises when you were in the throes of building a reputation and a career. He might not be able to make up for the time he lost with his sons, but he could make sure they didn't repeat his mistakes.

Given Frank's intensity, Fenton figured his oldest son would definitely require a periodic reminder of this little talk of theirs.

**A/N:**

I'm posting this in memory of those who have suffered at the hands of others. There are far too many of them in our world, today. I know it ended up being a bit maudlin toward the end, but at least Frank is ok, right?

As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed, including Chloe, who I managed to surprise ;) Seems I've been able to keep most of you guessing through this one, and that makes me happy! Only a couple more chapters to go now.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I don't own them (darn) and I make no money from this (double darn).

Just a warning that this turned out to be kind of a long chapter. Happy reading!

**Chapter 23: Outlooks & Outcomes**

ywywywywyw

"Guy said he'd be home in just a couple days!" Yvonne could barely contain her excitement as she pranced around the room. Though Bess and George had headed home, Nancy and Vanessa were still with her. "He said that it's really over. He has some things to wrap up with the FBI, and he wants to stick around the estate until Phil gets home, but then he'll be home, and everything will be back to normal. Daddy will never even have to know."

Yvonne stopped in front of Vanessa and squeezed her hand. "It was so wonderful of Joe to stick with Guy through all of this, Vanessa."

She noticed that Vanessa's eyes had to refocus on her, and her response was distracted as if she hadn't really been listening.

"Of course, Yvonne."

Turning to see what Vanessa had been looking at, Yvonne noticed that Nancy stood stiffly at the window staring out at the lights piercing the inky black of midnight along the Lake Michigan shoreline. As she watched, Nancy turned, and Yvonne was nonplussed by the anger she saw reflected in her face.

"You could learn a thing or two from Frank and Joe, Yvonne," Nancy said acidly.

"What's wrong, Nancy?" Yvonne stepped past Vanessa and approached Nancy cautiously. "Guy said Frank was going to be fine, Nancy. It's over."

Nancy's responding snort of laughter was almost derisive, and anger still burned in her vivid blue eyes. Yvonne really wasn't sure she understood the young woman standing in front of her, but she instinctively knew that the anger was directed at her.

Upon hearing Frank was out of danger and alright, Yvonne had thought that Nancy would calm down and return to the charming young woman she had been yesterday. Now she wondered if the detective had been putting on a front the entire time, and was always this unpleasant, brooding person she had been for the last several hours.

Nancy's response was sharp. "Frank will be fine, yes. But what about Guy? Or are you going to continue to force him to live as Phillip? Honestly, Yvonne, much of the unpleasantness of the last several days could have been avoided if you weren't such a coward about telling your father the truth about the man you supposedly love."

Yvonne took a step back, as if slapped. "You don't understand," she whispered.

Nancy crossed her arms, and took two purposeful steps forward, placing her directly in front of Yvonne. "No, Yvonne, I don't understand. How can a woman force the man she loves into living a lie? I've only known him a couple of days, but Guy Mancini is an incredibly resilient and admirable man. I can't understand how it is that _you_ don't see that."

"But I do," Yvonne said earnestly, suddenly anxious to make Nancy understand how strongly she felt about Guy. "That's why I fell in love with him. Despite everything that's happened to him, Guy has always bounced back and remained a good person. He's incredible."

Nancy pressed her lips together into a thin line, though her expression seemed to have softened somewhat. She took a deep breath and asked, "And yet you're too embarrassed to present _him_ to your father as your husband? Do you realize how that must make Guy feel? Is it any wonder he hasn't shared more about his past with you? If you're ashamed of him, how much more ashamed would you be if you knew about his father, and his childhood? Part of loving someone is accepting them for who they are – not who you want them to be."

Heart sinking into her toes, Yvonne realized with a shock why Nancy was so angry. It was the same reason she had been so angry with herself when Guy first left. How could she forget so easily what she had forced Guy to do? She had been ready to slip back into the façade that had helped get them into this predicament to begin with.

Yvonne sat down and folded her hands on her lap. "You're right. It was a terrible thing to do. But how can I tell my father that I lied to him? He'll never understand, and I'm afraid he'll never accept Guy as a son-in-law."

Vanessa sat down, her knees almost touching Yvonne's as she covered her folded hands. Her smile was sympathetic. "I think you're underestimating both your father, and Guy, Yvonne."

Nancy took a seat next to Vanessa and leaned forward, her gaze intense, but no longer angry. "Vanessa's right. I would like to think that a man who loves a woman enough to give up his identity to give her what she wants is exactly the kind of man your father would embrace as a son-in-law. All your father wants is for you to be happy, Yvonne. You need to tell him what makes you happy."

Yvonne smiled at Nancy. "You sound so much like Phillip, Nancy. He was a good friend, and so are you. And you're both absolutely right."

Standing, she took a deep, bracing breath. "I think it's time I showed some backbone and went up to talk to Daddy. I want Guy to come home as himself – the man I love."

vbvbvbvbvb

Vanessa woke with a start and looked at the clock. It was three in the morning and she felt like she had barely slept. She knew she would feel better once they returned to New York, and she saw Joe with her own two eyes. She stared at the ceiling for several minutes before deciding to get up and get something to drink.

Out in the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator and retrieved the juice. She was just pulling out a glass from the cupboard when Nancy startled her.

"Are you having trouble sleeping, too?"

Nancy leaned in the entryway to the living room, her face cast in deep shadow. Vanessa reached over and turned the task light on over the kitchen sink. Nancy still looked pale and drawn, despite the fact that the ordeal was over. She suspected that Nancy, like herself, was anxious to see her boyfriend with her own eyes to confirm the second-hand reports that he was alright.

"I don't sleep terribly well away from Joe," Vanessa said. "Would you like to join me for some juice?"

"Sure."

Minutes later, Vanessa carried two glasses of juice to the dining room table and sat down with Nancy.

"So, how long have you and Joe been living together?" Nancy asked idly.

An instant smile curved Vanessa's lips. "Well, that all depends on how you count it. When we went to college at NYU we had separate apartments, but more often then not we ended up staying together. None of our parents were thrilled when we said we were moving in together, they said we were too young. But honestly, it was ridiculous to be paying for two apartments when we were only ever in one of them at a time."

"So you've been basically living together for five years?"

"Well, more like four. The first year, Joe and Frank roomed together. Frank finished up part way through Joe's second year, and then moved out when he accepted the assistantship at GWU."

Nancy nodded and smiled, and Vanessa had the impression that she already knew that. It was confirmed a moment later when she said, "Frank often commented about not needing to get his own place, since Joe was hardly ever around because he was with you."

Vanessa looked at Nancy shrewdly. "I guess Cal was right. Frank never let on, but she always suspected he kept in pretty close contact with you."

Some color entered Nancy's cheeks. "He did, but it was just as friends."

"You don't owe me an explanation, Nan. I was just making an observation. The truth is that by then, Cal and Frank were already having problems. She didn't want him to accept the assistantship at GWU, but it was such a great opportunity for him."

"I know. It kind of pissed me off that she was being so selfish. I told Frank as much. He was still trying to salvage the relationship at that point." Nancy turned to look out the window, and seemed to be avoiding Vanessa's gaze, as she added, "I look back on my friendship with Frank and wonder if my motives weren't sometimes just as selfish as Yvonne's."

Van chuckled. "It's funny you say that, because Joe was so torn at the time. He wanted his brother in New York, just like Callie did, but he was angry with her for wanting it, just like you. I remember telling him that the reason he was so pissed at Callie was because he saw his own selfishness reflected in her."

"Poor Frank – surrounded by selfish people," Nancy said quietly.

"You're not selfish, Nancy. Everyone has selfish thoughts now and then. Actions speak louder."

"I suppose." Nancy dropped her chin in her hand, gaze fixed out the window. "For so long I was a bigger coward then Yvonne has ever been. It was unfair to Frank and Callie, and Ned."

Vanessa shook her head. In no way would she consider Nancy a coward. "It's hard to let go of your first love, Nan. You aren't the first person to have that problem."

"But I don't think I held on to Ned because he was my first love. The truth is, I was terrified of how I felt about Frank, and as long as I kept Ned between us, I knew I wouldn't screw up our friendship."

"Well, I think it might be even harder to realize that a close friendship can develop into more without losing the friendship. That takes a certain level of maturity to come to grips with."

Vanessa was relieved to see a teasing twinkle in Nancy's blue eyes as she turned from the view out the window to smile at her. "Are you calling me immature, Vanessa?"

"Just the opposite, Nancy. After all, you and Frank are obviously more then friends now."

Vanessa smiled at the dreamy look on Nancy's face as she nodded in agreement.

"And I don't plan to waste any more time worrying about how we got to this point. The fact is that we're here, and I know what I want." Her gaze clouded slightly. "I just hope Frank feels the same way."

Van put a hand on her arm, and leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin. "Trust me, Nan – I know he does."

ndndndndnd

Nancy dropped onto the plush couch on the private jet and heaved a sigh of relief. In just a couple more hours she would be able to lay eyes on Frank. That fact alone made it worth accepting the ride from Dan Jarvi. She just couldn't figure out why he seemed to dislike her, and his attitude tended to rub her the wrong way. But she could put up with it for a little while longer if it meant she got to see Frank that much sooner.

It really surprised her, actually, because when she first met Dan, that night at the Academy, she recalled admiring the easy way that he seemed to command respect from the Agents around him. The first time she chatted with him on the phone after leaving New York, when he called to make her the job offer, they had gotten along fine.

Then came the negotiation process as she began to seriously weigh the option of pursuing a career in the Bureau. The next time she talked to him, his responses had seemed strained, and he was curt with her on the line. She might have shrugged it off, but when their conversations continued in that vein over the next couple days, she wondered if it wasn't a reaction to her, personally. His attitude when he arrived in Chicago looking for Frank had pretty much confirmed it. Dan Jarvi didn't like her, and for the life of her, Nancy couldn't figure out what she had done to provoke the Agent's disdain.

"Now I understand why Joe was so excited about getting to ride on a private jet," Vanessa said, as she sat down next to Nancy. "This is a far cry from commercial coach."

"Only this bar is stocked with more than soda and water," Jarvi said. He stowed his bag, and then strolled to the bar. "Can I get either of you ladies something to drink?"

"I'll have a soda, please," Vanessa said. "Diet coke if you have it."

"Coming up, Vanessa. Drew, do you want anything?"

Nancy met Jarvi's piercing gaze and shook her head. "No, thank you."

"Fine."

Moments later Jarvi was handing Vanessa her drink as he sat down with a beer for himself. Nancy looked at the beer longingly. Maybe it would make the trip tolerable if she indulged in just one, but a personal reticence about drinking in front of someone in authority held her back.

"Go get yourself a beer, Drew. You need to relax. We still have a couple hours before we get to New York."

Reluctantly, Nancy had to admit Jarvi was right. She stood and walked to the refrigerator, thinking to get herself a pop. When she opened it and saw Killian's chilling in there, she couldn't resist. She picked one up and opened it, taking a long draw before heading back to the couch to sit down.

Jarvi raised his own beer to them, and it took a moment before Nancy realized that he was toasting her. "Here's to a damn fine job, Drew. No doubt you'd do well in my unit."

She looked at him in surprise and blurted the first thing that came into her mind, "I didn't think you liked me?"

Jarvi chuckled. "Liking or disliking you has nothing to do with it, Drew. I recognize talent when I see it – even if you are a little big for your britches."

Nancy bristled at the comment as the Captain's voice sounded over the cabin speaker, "Please fasten your seatbelts in preparation for takeoff."

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" Vanessa asked, sounding indignant for Nancy.

Another chuckle. "You have them all fighting your battles for you, Drew?"

Nancy set her beer in a nearby cup holder and fastened her seatbelt as the jet began to roll towards the end of the runway. She needed a few seconds to cool her initial temper and formulate a reply. Unfortunately, when she met Jarvi's mocking gaze, her anger got the better of her.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"If you weren't happy with the offer I made you, then why didn't you tell me yourself?"

"I did tell you. I told you I wasn't willing to start with only a week of vacation, and I didn't think it was unreasonable to want layoff protection given the fact that I would be low man on the totem pole in your unit," Nancy said forcefully.

"But you never talked to me about wanting more pay," Jarvi said.

Nancy's brows furrowed. "What? The pay you offered was more then what I'm making by nearly ten percent. What makes you think I wanted more?"

Jarvi looked taken aback, and continued slowly, "Frank said that . . . the offer the Bureau made you was a slap in the face."

It was Nancy's turn to chuckle. "Well, yeah, Frank did think that. I told him he was insane to think I would get an offer commensurate with his. He'll have his Master's soon, and that's bound to get him a higher wage."

She crossed her arms, as the import of what Jarvi was saying struck her. "Hang on. You spoke with Frank about _my_ offer? That seems . . . inappropriate at best."

Color crept up Jarvi's neck. "Well, actually we were discussing his offer, and he brought up yours. I've been doing the recruiting for both of you, even though Frank wouldn't be working for me."

Nancy's eyebrows shot up. "So now I'm a bargaining chip to get Frank into the Bureau? I don't think I like being manipulated like that, Dan."

"Christ, now you sound like Hank," Jarvi said irritably. "Personally I could care less if Frank joins the Bureau – he's Liesle's problem. You, however, would be a hell of an asset to my team. I finally got the go-ahead from the brass to give you another five percent over the current offer. That takes you to the next GS level, which is unheard of for an undergrad with two flipping years of experience. So what do you say, Drew?"

Nancy stared at the Agent in shock as the Captain's voice again sounded over the cabin speakers, "We're now at cruising altitude and should reach New York in approximately one hour and fifty-seven minutes. The weather in New York is overcast and cool, today, with a possibility of late morning showers. I hope you folks packed your umbrellas."

"It's a generous offer, Dan . . ."

"Damn straight it is," Jarvi said.

"But I'm afraid it doesn't change my answer. I like the variety of work I get to do in the private sector, and I'm not willing to give it up, even if it does mean more money."

"And if Frank decides to join?" Jarvi asked.

"That's entirely up to Frank. I'm sure where ever the Bureau decides to land him I can find a job as a private investigator."

"And you two aren't engaged, huh?" Jarvi asked.

Van let out a bark of laughter, and Nancy looked at her curiously. She shrugged, and looked back at Jarvi.

"No, but I don't really see what difference that makes."

The next couple hours passed pleasantly. Jarvi seemed to accept her rejection without issue, and they chatted idly about wide-ranging topics that had nothing to do with the case. For the first time since girl's night, Nancy felt herself begin to really relax. The only thing missing was Frank.

They landed within minutes of the pilot's predicted time, and disembarked to find Joe waiting for them. He swept Vanessa up in a bear hug and whirled her about happily. Nancy watched them with a smile, but couldn't help but feel a bit jealous.

"Alright, you two. I'm ready to head to the hospital."

"Ok, ok, Nan," Joe said, as he set Van back on her feet. "I just need to make a quick stop by the apartment, and then we'll head straight there."

Nancy sighed in frustration and was considering the possibility of catching a cab, when Dan put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm headed straight to the hospital to see Hank and Lise. You're welcome to hitch a ride if you like."

Nancy smiled. "Yes, I would like. Thank you."

"Ok, well, we'll see you there, shortly, then," Joe said.

Nancy gave Joe and Van an off-hand wave as she practically dragged Dan toward long-term parking where he said his car was parked.

fhfhfhfhfh

Frank looked up as his mother walked in the door of his hospital room, followed closely by his father. He waited expectantly as they moved into the room, and was disappointed when the door swung shut behind them and remained closed.

His mother took a seat on the edge of his bed and took his hands in a gentle grip. "They'll be here, soon, Frank. Joe went to the airport to pick them up."

Frank sighed. "That obvious, huh? I'm just anxious to . . . see that Nan's alright, you know, for myself."

"I'm sure she's just as anxious to see you. Actually, I'm quite positive of it. I've already spoken to her twice this morning, and from what Vanessa said, she was practically dragging them to the airport at the crack of dawn."

"That sounds like Nan." Frank smiled.

His breakfast was delivered, and the day nurse promised that the doctor would be in toward the end of rounds to discuss release. Frank ate and talked idly to his parents, all the while silently willing Nancy to walk through the door.

He looked toward the door for at least the hundredth time, and nearly cheered when he heard the tap of knuckles. It opened, and Nancy walked in. Dressed in jeans, a fitted cotton button-down shirt, and sneakers, he thought she was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

She spared his parents a slight smile and nod of greeting, but didn't even pause as she walked to the side of the bed and sat down, gazing at him intently. Her blue eyes were unusually bright, though they looked a bit sunken, like she hadn't been sleeping. She reached out a hand and touched his cheek lightly and he smiled at her.

"Glad you could make it, Drew."

Her smile trembled a bit. "I had to see for myself that you came through this mess alright."

"No lasting damage," Frank said.

"Didn't Joe come with you, Nancy?" His father asked.

Nancy swallowed. "I, ahem, I came with Dan. Joe and Van needed to stop by the apartment before coming here."

His mother plucked at his father's sleeve. "Fenton and I are going to run down to the cafeteria and get some coffee. Can we get you anything, Nancy?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"We'll be back in a bit."

Frank silently thanked his mother as she led his father out of the room, leaving him alone with Nancy. He sat forward and cupped Nancy's face in his hands. "I missed you, Nancy."

The next moment her face crumpled, and tears began falling. Silent sobs shook her entire body, and Frank wrapped his arms around her, ignoring the pain as he cradled her against his chest.

"It's alright, Nan," he soothed. "Everything's going to be alright."

It was several minutes before the sobbing abated. Nancy took a deep breath and sat up, her gaze apologetic. She looked at the dressings across his chest and gasped.

"Oh my God, Frank, I'm so sorry. I didn't hurt you did I?"

"I'm fine, sweetheart. How about you? What was that all about?"

Nancy snagged a couple of tissues out of the box by Frank's bed to wipe her face and blow her nose. "I've been holding it in for the last 24 hours, and now that I know you're really ok, I just had to . . . let it out."

He took her hands and looked at her thoughtfully. "I don't think I've ever seen you fall apart like that."

"That's because it is something I generally do in private, after everyone is gone. Dad, George and Bess are the only other people who have ever witnessed it."

"Sounds like I'm joining a pretty elite group. I'm honored. " A stray tear slipped down her cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb. "We're going to be fine, Nan."

She smiled ruefully at him. "I know. This is how I've always reacted to stress. George calls it the meltdown. I'm fine while everything is happening, but once it's all over, I sort of . . . melt down."

"Will you marry me?"

Nancy looked at him blankly for several seconds. "What?"

Nancy melts down, I make life-altering proposals, Frank thought with a shake of his head. "I know it's kind of sudden, and quick, and if you need some time to think about it, I totally understand –"

"Ask me again."

It was Frank's turn to stare at her blankly.

She squeezed his hands, encouraging. "Ask me again. I don't want the first thing out of my mouth after your proposal to be 'what?'"

Frank chuckled at the mocking tone of her voice when she said 'what?' He took a deep breath.

"Nancy Drew, will you be my wife?"

"Yes, I will."

"You will?"

She smiled that tender smile that could turn him inside out. "You heard me, Hardy."

He pulled her forward and met her lips for a lingering kiss. He didn't think euphoria was too strong a word for what he felt – Nancy agreed to marry him. Slowly, the feeling that he was forgetting something nagged at him, and he suddenly broke the kiss and snapped his fingers.

"I didn't get you an engagement ring, yet!"

"I don't need a ring, Frank."

"Oh, yes you do. I've seen the way Matt looks at you. I don't want there to be any doubt about the fact that you are spoken for."

Nancy's blue eyes took on a mischievous glint, "Well, then I think we should talk about getting you a tattoo."

"A tattoo?" Frank asked warily.

"A tattoo that says 'TAKEN.' I have as much right to mark my territory as you do yours."

"And just where would this tattoo go?"

"Your forehead."

"My forehead?"

They locked eyes, and then both burst into laughter.

jhjhjhjhjh

Joe stared at his mother, who hovered protectively by the knob of the door to Frank's room.

"Nancy was looking just a tad brittle. They need some time alone, Joseph."

Joe had a shoulder against the door hinges, his head leaning against the crack, listening unobtrusively to the conversation inside. He suspected his mother was doing the same thing, so he didn't feel too bad about it.

Joe's father shook his head. "Brittle? She was balling soon after we left. I'm not sure Frank is up to dealing with that."

His mother turned an intense glare on her husband, and Joe had to stifle a laugh. "He will have to learn to deal with it sooner or later, Fenton. Frank will be fine, and so will Nancy. We just need to give them a little space."

"Whatever you say, dear. Heard anything interesting?"

Joe couldn't help the guffaw that escaped. It sucked being in a family full of snoops. Nan and Frank would just have to deal.

A moment later, Joe saw his mother's face break out in a radiant smile, and he knew his reflected it.

"It's about time," she said.

Joe nodded. "I couldn't agree more."

Vanessa tugged on Joe's arm. "What?"

At the same time, his father was asking, "What happened, Laura?"

"I think we should let Frank and Nancy make the announcement, dear."

Joe was too excited to wait, and snatched the door open. He strode to the bed and pumped his brother's arm. "Alright, bro! Congrats!"

Then he engulfed Nancy in a bear hug. "Welcome to the family, sis!"

He took a step back so Vanessa could offer her own congratulations, and caught his father's amused grin.

"I don't think Frank and Nancy need to make an announcement, after all. Joe took care of it for them."

Their parents stepped forward and congratulated Nancy and Frank warmly. They all took seats around the small room. Frank moved over and placed an arm around Nancy's shoulders as she settled next to him. They both finally seemed to be at ease. The nightmare of the last day taking a definite back-seat to the happy news of today.

Joe sat down on one of the chairs and pulled Vanessa onto his lap. His father sat in the other visitor chair, his mother perched next to him, an arm draped across his shoulders. Joe felt himself truly relax as he looked at the happy, healthy faces of his family sitting around the crowded little room.

"So, Nancy, how would you feel about a double wedding with me and Van?" Joe said. The idea of a double-wedding with his brother appealed to him.

"I hate to intrude on Vanessa's day, Joe," Nancy said uncertainly. "I always kind of wanted just a small, intimate wedding anyway. Not something big. I don't have a lot of family."

Joe felt Van shift forward, toward Nancy. "Me, too! It's just me and my mom. I just can't understand why she is insisting on this extravagant event. Besides, I think a double wedding sounds lovely. A small, double wedding with just our close friends and family."

Vanessa and Nancy were looking at each other with warm smiles, and seemed to be sharing some secret message. Nancy nodded in agreement.

"That does sound nice."

Joe was startled when his mother spoke. "The gazebo in the back yard would make a lovely location for the vows if we timed it right."

Frank seemed to be as startled as Joe. "The clematis on the gazebo blooms in late July, Mom."

"I know that, Franklin."

Joe met his brother's shell-shocked gaze and started to chuckle. "You know, this is just too perfect. The impetuous brother took two years to get his girl to the alter. The thoughtful brother takes less than two months!"

Vanessa grinned. "It's a good thing we didn't order those invitations yet."

Frank laid his head back and closed his eyes. "My head is killing me."

Nancy kissed his forehead as she stood. "I'll go see the nurse about getting you some pain reliever."

Frank's eyes popped open. "See if you can find the doc, too, sweetheart. I want to get the hell out of here."

"Don't push it, Hardy," Nancy threw over her shoulder.

Joe grinned at the approving look his mother fixed on Nancy's disappearing back. He couldn't have agreed more. Nancy was right for Frank.

He planted a kiss on his fiancé's nose and looked into her beautiful blue-gray eyes. "Thank you, baby."

Van gave him a warm smile, "Anytime. By the way, I could use some backup when we discuss the change in plans with Mom."

Joe's mother reached across his father's back and patted Van's arm. "You and I will have coffee with your mother sometime next week. I think you may be surprised how she reacts, dear."

Joe flashed Van a self-satisfied smile. "I told you a week away in Chicago would help you relax and clear your head about the wedding, baby."

"First of all, we only spent a couple days in Chicago, which were far from relaxing. Second of all, it had nothing to do with clearing my head about anything. And don't you dare think you're getting out of taking me on a real vacation, Joseph Hardy!"

"You tell him, Vanessa," Frank said.

Vanessa turned a stern expression on his brother, and Joe had to stifle a laugh.

"And you, Franklin Hardy, had better not forget the promise you made to Nancy. A week away from everything."

"She told you about that?" Frank looked surprised.

"Yes. I think the two of you owe Nancy and me a nice, quiet vacation somewhere."

Joe met his brother's accepting smile with a wide grin.

"Sounds good to me!"

gmgmgmgm

Guy Mancini opened his eyes, and instantly regretted it. The sunlight was like knives plunging straight into his brain. He wondered hazily what had woke him. A moment later, he knew.

"Big Guy, get your lazy ass outta bed." His best friend, Phillip Colby grabbed the blanket that covered him and yanked it off.

Phil had arrived at the estate early yesterday evening, and he and Guy had spent the rest of the night drinking and talking. Though they spoke regularly on the phone, it just wasn't the same as talking face to face. Add a little beer, some hard liquor and what did you end up with? A helluva good time, followed by a monster freaking hangover. It had been at least two years since Guy had been drinking with Phil, and Phil always could drink him under a table. Guy rolled over and groaned.

Guy sat up and the room spun. Shit, he was still drunk. He looked over at the clock – 11 am? "What the hell, Phil. We just went to bed a few hours ago."

"I know, man, but Vonnie is here to see you."

"Vonnie? She's here?" Guy swung his feet to the floor and rubbed his hands over his face. The near elation he felt knowing Vonnie was waiting for him was off-set by a foreboding that he couldn't quite remember the reason for.

"Here, Guy, drink this." Phil shoved a cup of strong black coffee into his hands. "You're going to need it to face your father-in-law."

That was just the cold shower Guy needed to gather his wits about him. He closed his eyes as the last couple days returned in technicolor. "David's here, too?"

"I'm afraid so."

He gulped the scalding liquid, and then stumbled to the bathroom to survey himself in the mirror. He looked like death warmed over.

"Ah, Phil, what did you do to me, man?"

"I didn't do anything to you, Guy, you did it to yourself." Phil handed him three aspirin and a glass of water. "Take 'em, and drink all of the water."

Guy did as ordered, then turned on the tap, and splashed cold water over his face. "David's here," he said to his reflection in the mirror. "What the hell was Vonnie thinking bringing him here?"

Phil handed him another cup of coffee. Guy sat down on the closed toilet lid and drank it while he watched Phil hang up a towel next to the tub and start the shower. "Get a grip, Guy, and then get a shower and brush you teeth – you smell like a fucking brewery."

Guy stepped under the streaming water and let it run over his face. He stood there long enough for the water to turn from scalding to cold, and then quickly soaped and shampooed. Once he was rinsed off, he turned the temperature to full cold, and let the prickly feel of the water wash the last of his hangover down the drain.

Another cup of coffee waited for him when he stepped out of the shower. He toweled off, pulled on the underwear and white t-shirt Phil had left for him, brushed his teeth, and then grabbed the coffee and strode out into the bedroom.

Phil sat in an upholstered sitting chair, dressed in a pair of brown slacks with a matching turtleneck, casual loafers shined to a glossy finish on his feet, wavy blond hair carefully styled. But the look in those brown eyes made Guy instinctively uneasy.

"Give me a break, Phil, alright."

"I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to. I know what you're thinking."

Guy looked at his friend, and then looked in the mirror at himself. Damn. He had forgotten to shave. It didn't matter. Even cleaned up he didn't come close to pulling off the cool and in-charge air that Phil had without trying.

"You try too hard, Guy. Just tell David the truth."

"What if he hates me?"

"Does it really matter?"

"What about Vonnie . . . Yvonne? If her father rejects me -"

"It's not going to change how she feels about you, Guy. Trust me."

"I'm not so sure."

"Well, I am. Now would you put on some clothes? I think you've kept them waiting about as long as common courtesy allows."

Guy pulled on a pair of pressed jeans and a navy blue polo shirt from Phil's more casual attire, and slipped his feet into a pair of black Italian wingtips. He ran his fingers back through his hair, raking his unruly curls into some semblance of order, then turned and looked at Phil for assessment.

Phil smiled his approval. "It's you, Guy. Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. What do you think about me introducing you as Phillip Colby, first? That should break the ice with David."

Phil laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Works for me."

At the entrance to the sitting room the only thing that kept Guy from bolting was Phil's steadying hand on his shoulder. They walked into the room side by side. David Whitney stood in front of the fire place, looking at the photos on the shelf over it. He turned as they entered.

Yvonne stood from the couch and hurried to Guy's side. "I've missed you so much, Guy."

Guy wrapped an arm around her slim waist and bent to accept a kiss. "I missed you, too, Von, uh, Yvonne."

Turning, she took Phil's hand. "It's so wonderful to see you again, Phil. When did you get back?"

"Just last night, Vonnie." He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

David had walked over. He held out a hand to Phillip.

"Mr. Colby, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Guy looked down at Yvonne in shock. "He knows?"

Yvonne smiled up at him with that smile that could melt his heart. "Yes, darling. I explained everything to Daddy."

David turned to Guy, a grudging smile on his face. "It's nice to meet you, Gaetano."

Guy took the offered hand in a firm grip, and returned the smile. "Thank you, David. I'm sorry –"

David patted Guy's hand and shook his head. "You have nothing to apologize for. Yvonne explained everything."

"Still, I feel like you deserve to hear it from me, David."

David nodded. "Then why don't we sit down and . . . talk."

"I'd like that."

**A/N:**

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I really do love getting those little notes of appreciation :) Just the epilogue yet to go.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: HB/ND belong to someone else (darn). I do this strictly for fun.

This is the final chapter in Press & Predators. It's always kind of bittersweet to get to the end :( but the good news is, I do have a sequel in mind . . . it just may be awhile before I get to posting.

Happy reading!

**Epilogue: Friends & Fluff**

"You sit right there and stay put."

Nancy pushed Frank into the chair in front of the little office area he had set up in the corner of her apartment. It was Friday, and she had just gotten home from work. The bus ride had been spent in self-preparation for the talk she planned to have with him.

They had been back in Chicago for almost two weeks now, and she was getting the distinct impression that he planned to stay. She had to admit, she liked the idea of him being there and having a place in her apartment that he had claimed. It wasn't that she didn't want him to stay, but she absolutely couldn't put off straightening out the issue of why.

Keep focused on your objective, Drew, she said to herself sternly.

Frank started to get up. "Nan –"

"I said, stay put."

She turned away from him as he dropped back into the chair. She ran her hands back through her hair, using the physical act of smoothing out the tangles to ground her thoughts and mentally unravel and organize them. There. She took a deep breath.

"Frank, why are you so intent on moving to Chicago?"

His brows furrowed, and his tone conveyed that he thought the answer was obvious. "Because you're here."

"I thought you were going to finish school."

"I am. But I talked to my advisor, and since my course work is complete, he doesn't have a problem finalizing the thesis with me long distance. I'll have to go back for my defense, but that will only take a few days. Other than that I figured I could, maybe . . . stay here?"

Nancy chanced a look at him. Tone and gaze both conveyed his uncertainty about how she would respond. He was proposing to move in with her, here in Chicago. He was willing to fit himself into her life, without asking her to make any changes whatsoever. She leaned on the arm of the couch, and crossed her arms, staring at the wall.

"Nan, I know we didn't discuss this, and if you don't want me to move in, I fully understand. I mean, we're moving awful fast by anyone's standards -"

"It's not that, Frank. I've already agreed to marry you . . . in August for goodness sake. Taking it slow is not the issue."

"Then I guess I'm missing the 'issue,' sweetheart, because from where I'm sitting everything is just about perfect."

A bark of a laugh escaped her lips and tears stung her eyes. All Ned had ever asked her to do was change . . . change her career, change her location, change her heart. In the end that had been the problem, Ned didn't love her for who she was but for who he thought she should be. And here was Frank, offering to change everything in his life to allow her not to change, because he loved her, exactly as she was.

She didn't even noticed he had gotten up until his hand brushed her cheek. "Tears, Nan? Please, I didn't mean to make you cry."

Nancy shook her head and swiped impatiently at the tear that had escaped. "I don't want you to limit yourself like this, Frank. We don't have to live in Chicago."

"But you said –"

"I know what I said. Do you have any idea how much I've regretted putting that damn condition on our relationship? It was a knee-jerk reaction to an intense fear of being under the gun about a relationship, again. Every time I turned around when I was with Ned, he was making some request to test my commitment to him. In the end, I failed miserably. I just couldn't bear the thought of that happening with you."

"I'm not . . ."

"Ned, I know."

"But what about your dad, and Bess and George? And I thought you liked working for Riley?"

"All of that is a consideration, but only a consideration. Chicago and New York aren't that far apart. Aunt Eloise is in New York, so it's not like I don't have family there. DC isn't that far, and Dad spends half his time there, anyway. Heck, in this world, nowhere is all that far. There are phone calls, and airplanes, and instant messaging. We can make it work where ever."

"So, you don't want me to move to Chicago?" Frank asked. "Not even to finish my thesis?"

Nancy looked up at him. She could tell it was more than a question about the move. "I would love to have you move in with me, Frank. I just don't want it to be a permanent solution. I certainly don't plan to live in this drafty walk-up the rest of my life. And moving forward from here . . . I just don't want your options to be limited to what you can find in Chicago, that's all I'm trying to say."

"Our options," Frank corrected. "You don't want our options to be limited to Chicago."

Nancy smiled at him. "Right, our options."

"Are you done, now?"

She gave him a thin smile. "I suppose, for the moment."

"The first thing I want you to know is that I love you. And my number one priority is making sure you're happy. I don't want to take you away from your life, Nancy. I want to share it with you."

"But right now it feels like you're chucking everything to fit yourself into my life, and as appealing as I'll admit that is, I don't want you to do that. I want us to make our own life, together."

"Fair enough. How about this? I move to Chicago." He placed a finger against her lips as she opened her mouth to protest.

"Hear me out. I move to Chicago while I finish my thesis work and get my degree. And we can start exploring our career options together. No permanent decisions. But it is a quick fix to the being together issue, which I'm feeling pretty inflexible about, right now."

"And we won't limit the career search to Chicago?"

"Not to Chicago, and not to New York, either. Geography aside, the most important thing is to find a career move that works for both of us."

Nancy nodded her agreement. "Together."

"Together," Frank agreed. He leaned down and kissed her, scattering any further thoughts Nancy had of pressing the issue. When he straightened, he glanced at the clock with a start. "Hey, it's getting late. We better get ready to go."

"Where, exactly are we going?"

Frank shook his head and grinned. "I told you, it's a surprise."

Nancy groaned as he took her arm to lead her toward the bedroom. "You've been teasing me with this all week."

"Another hour or two shouldn't be a problem, then," Frank said, his brown eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement. "I think you should wear that new red dress Bess bought for you."

Nancy knew the dress he was talking about. It was far more daring than anything else in her closet, and she had seriously wondered what made Bess think she would ever wear the short, form-fitting satin sheath. It really wasn't her style.

"That's pretty formal. Where in the world are we going?"

"Indulge me," Frank said.

She sighed and nodded.

About two hours later, they were driving through a wrought iron gate with a large scrolled 'W' on it. It was the first clue Nancy had about their destination. The gate had opened without prompting, so obviously they were expected.

"Is this the Whitney estate?"

"I told Joe your detective skills didn't require honing."

As they drove up the curving drive, Nancy played idly with his dark hair where it curled over the collar of the burgundy button-down he had selected to match her dress. He had paired it with black slacks and a dark tie. He looked incredibly handsome and Nancy wondered at her luck.

Minutes later they were walking up to a wide entrance, arm in arm. The door was opened by David Whitney himself, a gracious smile on his face. "I'm glad you could make it. Yvonne has been absolutely impossible all day."

David escorted them through a simply-decorated entry hallway, and opened a set of double doors to the right. Nancy noticed that the room was full of people as she stepped through, seconds before the ear-splitting, "Surprise!"

Nancy looked up at Frank, shocked but happy. "You knew about this?"

From the expression on his face, she could tell he was almost as surprised as she was. "I thought we were coming up for a small dinner party with our immediate families."

Yvonne hurried forward and embraced Nancy. "Oh, I can tell, I managed to surprise both of you. I was so thrilled when I learned that you and Frank were engaged, I told Daddy I simply had to throw you a huge engagement party!"

Yvonne gave Frank a peck on the cheek. Across the room, they spied Joe, who was jumping up and down and pointing at a group of young men he and Vanessa were standing with. They waved, and several hands in the intervening crowd raised in response.

Frank's smile was wide as he gave Yvonne a return hug. "I can't believe it. Biff, Phil, Tony, and Chet are all here. Thanks, Yvonne. This is really great."

Nancy was surprised when Fenton moved forward and engulfed her in a warm hug. "I don't believe I've had the chance to welcome you to the family properly, sweetheart."

Even the timber of Fenton's voice reminded her of Frank. Nancy pulled back and looked up at him with a warm smile, "Thank you so much."

Glancing over, she saw that her father held Frank's right hand in a firm handshake as he pulled him forward for a fatherly hug. He must have said something to Frank, because when they pulled apart, Frank smiled and nodded, "Tonight."

Laura waved Fenton out of the way, and wrapped Nancy in her arms as she whispered in her ear, "Oh, honey, you look so beautiful. I'm so happy for both of you." She pulled back and put her hands on Nancy's shoulders, her smile warm and caring. "I couldn't have asked for two nicer young women for my boys. You remember, I'm always here to talk if you need it. I know how trying these Hardy men can be."

Nancy felt tears prick her eyes. She missed her mother so much, at times, and here was Laura welcoming her like a daughter. She clutched Frank's mother in a return hug. "I don't know how to thank you, Laura."

"If you don't mind, Nancy, I would love it if you called me 'Mom.' I know your own mother wouldn't mind. She was a wonderful friend."

Nancy swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. "I'd like that very much."

"If you're done adopting my one and only daughter, Laura . . .," her father said, pulling her into a bear hug. "Oh, honey, it's good to see you so happy."

They finished greeting their own parents and then slid back together, arms around one another as they faced the large, gathered crowd. Nancy pressed her lips against Frank's ear, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"What is 'tonight?'" she asked.

Frank looked confused, so she clarified, "You told my father, 'tonight.' What's tonight?"

His face cleared and he chuckled. "Your super-human hearing reminds me eerily of my mother, Nan."

Any chance she might have gotten to probe further was lost as they were swept into the crowd, accepting congratulations and greetings from a wide variety of friends, families, and associates. Nancy was thrilled to see nearly everyone she worked with at ADA. Yvonne had apparently flown in an entire plane-full of Bayport residents, as well as friends of both Nancy's and Frank's from college.

Yvonne had also gone all out with the decorating. The furniture had been moved out for the occasion and replaced by folding chairs. Fresh flowers draped every available surface, with white gossamer draped all over, lending a casual elegance to the setting. A live band was even set up on the wide veranda outside the row of glass doors at the back of the room. The doors were open wide, letting the cool night air in, carrying the scent of the lilacs that were in bloom all around the back yard.

They had barely made it half way around the room when someone announced a dance for the engaged couple. Nancy felt Frank's hand at her waist and looked up at him with a smile as he led her into the center of the room.

He pulled her into his arms and winked at her. "Good practice for the wedding reception. Seeing this crowd, I'm wondering how well the whole small and intimate thing is going to play out. I didn't know we knew this many people."

She thought her face might split in two she smiled so widely at the thought of their wedding reception. She was going to be Mrs. Frank Hardy – Nancy Hardy. She stared into the eyes of the man she would spend the rest of her life with and the room full of people seemed to fade into the distance.

"I am the luckiest person here," Nancy said quietly.

"That makes two of us." Frank drew their joined hands in and ran a finger along her jaw and then tilted her chin up. Leaning in, he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "I love you, Nancy."

The smattering of applause didn't really penetrate their little bubble. She slipped her hand out of his and up around his neck, pulling him down for a more lingering kiss. "I love you too, Frank."

They had danced their way to the other side of the room. Wolf calls from Frank's friends accompanied the end of the song, which finally broke the intimate mood. Frank wrapped his arm around her waist and led her toward the group.

"Come on, Nan, I want you to meet the gang."

She was glad to see Vanessa and Joe there, so she wasn't walking into a group of complete strangers. She was more than a little nervous about meeting Frank's friends.

Frank was shaking his head as they got close, "Really, guys? Wolf calls? This is a classy place, not a strip club."

Nancy pinched him and he yelped and looked at her with an amused grimace. "Sorry, Nan."

"I thought for a minute I was with the wrong brother."

"Hey, I heard that," Joe said as they were surrounded by Frank's friends, all of them talking at once, pumping Frank's arm, and slapping him on the back.

"Nancy, I'd like you to meet Tony Prito, Chet Morton and Phil Cohen. You already know Hooper," Frank said, giving the muscle-bound blond a friendly slug on the shoulder

Nancy felt like she already knew the other three, as well, having heard many stories over the years. It was nice to finally get to put faces with the names. She shook hands all around, but when she got to Biff, he ignored the proffered hand, and put a finger under her chin, looking at her critically.

"Hardy's territorial attitude makes a lot more sense now that you don't look like a punching bag," he said with a grin.

"Hands off, Hooper." The smile on Frank's face offset the harshness of his tone.

"Ah, come on, Frank. You can't begrudge an old friend one little spin."

Without waiting for a response, Biff took Nancy's hand and led her onto the dance floor, twirling her around once before pulling her in for the dance.

He watched his group of friends talking animatedly for several seconds before looking back down at her. "Frank isn't letting us out of his sight. I don't think he trusts me."

Biff made a show of tucking Nancy in tighter against his chest.

Nancy grunted as he squeezed the air out of her, and then laughed. "Are you trying to get him spun up?"

"Always," Biff said. "Frank's a tough one to make lose his cool. You, however, appear to be a definite trigger. I love it."

Nancy shook her head in amusement, but her attention was caught by George, who stood near the door with her date, Burt Eddleton. They appeared to be having a heated argument.

She had been surprised that Burt accompanied her friend to a party celebrating Nancy's engagement to Frank. Burt and Ned had been friends for a long time, and Burt was fiercely loyal to his former frat brother and best friend. As she watched, Burt threw his arms out in a show of disgust before turning and walking out of the living room, with George on his heels. A minute later, even over the din of the party, Nancy heard the front door slam.

Nancy patted Biff's shoulder, "As charming as my dance partner is, I'm afraid I have to go talk to a friend. Would you tell Frank I'll be back in a few minutes, please?"

Biff heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, but I expect to get a chance to finish this dance later."

"You got it."

Nancy made her way to where George and Burt had been arguing. A hand on her shoulder stopped her from heading into the entrance hall, and turned to find Bess looking worried. "Are you going to talk to George?"

"Yes. I saw Burt storm out after their argument. Did she come back in?"

"I don't think so."

They walked out into the hallway, and found George sitting on an antique bench, looking despondent. Nancy sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulders while Bess knelt down in front of her and took her hands.

George smiled at them sadly. "I'm alright, guys. I'm just furious with myself. I really don't blame Burt a bit for being angry at me. But he really just needs to get over it. I mean, after all, Ned broke up with you."

"He wasn't happy when he found out who the party was for, was he?" Bess asked.

"That is an understatement," George said. She looked at Nancy apologetically. "I'm really sorry about ruining your party, Nan."

Nancy squeezed her friend's shoulders. "Honestly, nothing short of the end of the world could have ruined this evening for me, George, so don't worry about it."

George shook her head. "I should have left Burt at home. I'm afraid he still blames you for the breakup, Nan. Especially after seeing who you're engaged to."

"That's ridiculous," Bess said.

Nancy sighed. "Not really. I may not be fully at fault, but neither was Ned."

George shook her head. "Do you remember when we first started dating Burt, Ned and Dave? I remember thinking that it couldn't be more perfect, the three of us dating three friends."

Rubbing her friend's back soothingly, Nancy nodded. "I thought the same thing. Maybe that's part of the reason we all tried so hard to make it work."

Bess stood and turned away. "You two tried. I didn't really get a chance. Dave dumped me less than a year after we started dating."

"Well, I held on longer than either of you, but I'm afraid it's over. I told Burt to move out in the morning. I'm tired of censoring myself around him. He gets so moody if I talk to him about either of you. I knew he'd give me grief about the party tonight, and so I just didn't tell him what it was for. As soon as he figured it out, he started grousing."

"I'm sorry, George," Nancy said.

George stood and smoothed down her skirt. "That's alright, Nan. I'm better off anyway. Right?"

Bess and Nancy nodded agreement.

"Besides," Bess said. "It looked like there were several eligible bachelors from Bayport here. I bet Nan would introduce you."

George turned a teasing smile on her cousin. "What about the eligible bachelor from New Canaan that we met earlier?"

Bess' smile turned dreamy. "I'm afraid Phillip is already taken."

George laughed. "I feel kind of sorry for the poor guy."

Bess 'harumphed' and crossed her arms. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"

Nancy shook her head and turned to rejoin the party. "I'm staying out of this one."

George put a stilling hand on Nancy's arm. "Wait, I would like to meet Frank's and Joe's friends from Bayport. They came late, and we didn't even get a chance to talk to Joe and Van before you arrived."

Linking arms with George, Nancy led her back through the door, and across the room. "Actually, George, I think you and Biff Hooper would get along great."

"Biff?" George asked uncertainly.

"Well, his name is Allen, actually. He's a Lieutenant in the Army, and a self-defense instructor at West Point."

"Really?" George looked intrigued. She glanced back, and tugged on Nancy's arm. "Look, Bess is already back at Phillip's side. She is totally smitten, Nan."

"Is he a nice guy?" Nancy asked. She and Frank hadn't gotten a chance to talk to Guy or Phillip since they had arrived, and she was kind of anxious to meet Guy's adopted alter ego. Phillip Colby was almost as tall as Guy, though with a leaner build. He carried himself with an easy confidence that reminded Nancy vaguely of David Whitney.

"He's a charmer," George said conspiratorially. "And I'm betting he could rival Bess in the flirting arena."

"Another Joe Hardy?"

George chuckled. "Exactly."

Nancy smirked. "Sounds like he and Bess were made for one another."

Frank's attention was diverted from his conversation with Joe, Tony and Phil when he noticed Nancy was moving his direction. He had to remember to find Bess and thank her for picking out that dress. The satiny fabric, in a rich wine-red, hugged Nancy's figure, and accentuated the highlights in her hair. The short skirt exposed most of her shapely legs, and he particularly liked the fact that it left her shoulders bare.

Her mother's pearl choker covered up a bit much of her neck for his taste, but he had to admit it looked beautiful with the dress. They had returned to Nancy's apartment from New York to find a box containing all of the Nancy's mother's jewelry with a simple note that said 'Sorry.' He wondered if Nancy had decided whether to thank Guy for returning the jewelry or to let it lie, as Frank had argued she should. Guy needed to start with a clean slate, but Nancy thought she should at least acknowledge the return, so he knew she forgave him. If they ever got to see Guy tonight, Frank would be interested to see how Nancy handled it.

He felt a momentary stab of jealousy when she stopped nearby to talk to Biff and Chet who were hovering over the refreshments table. Then he noticed that she was introducing his friends to George. Nancy stayed and chatted for a few minutes and then headed his direction, again, leaving George behind and reaching his side a few seconds later.

"Hey." Her arms slipped around his waist, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders pulling her close.

He smiled at her teasingly. "Playing match maker? I thought I saw George here with someone?"

Nancy grimaced. "You did. Burt . . . is a friend of Ned's. He wasn't real happy when he found out what the party was for."

Frank pressed his lips together in irritation. Nancy squeezed his waist. "Let's not talk about it, now."

He felt an overwhelming desire to erase the guilty expression off her face. Leaning his forehead against hers, he said firmly, "It's not your fault, Nan."

"I know."

She smiled ruefully at him and then shifted for a kiss. He enjoyed the lingering pressure of her lips against his, until the snickering of his friends penetrated the pleasant stupor Nancy tended to provoke in his head.

Nancy pulled back and turned to look at Phil and Tony, cheeks pink. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Tony snorted. "Somehow I don't think Frank minds."

"You wouldn't, either, if you were in his place, Prito!" Phil said with a smirk.

"Don't mind them, sweetheart. They're just jealous," Frank grinned at his friends.

He felt Nancy shift next to him and followed her gaze as she said excitedly, "Look who's here, Frank!"

The throng of people on the veranda parted to reveal Hank, being pushed in a wheel chair by Liesle.

"Well what do you know," Frank said in surprise. He pressed each of his friends' hands in turn. "We'll talk to you later, guys."

He turned to follow Nancy and they made their way to the two FBI agents.

Nancy leaned down and gave Hank a warm hug, and a kiss on the cheek. "This is such a wonderful surprise! I never expected to see you two here." She stood and gave Liesle a hug and kiss, as well.

"We wouldn't have missed it for the world. Besides, it got us out of the house, and out of town." Lielse said.

Hank leaned forward as he shook Frank's hand. "I think I'm driving her nuts."

"You mean you have doubts?" Liesle asked in mock surprise.

"You know you love me, babe."

"It's a damn good thing I do, or I would have killed you by now."

Hank glanced at Nancy, and then turned a teasing smile on Frank. "That's one thing you gotta be careful about when you decide to marry a woman that knows how to use deadly force, Frank. You remember that."

"Thanks for the advice," Frank said, laughing.

"How are you faring, Hank?" Nancy asked.

"I'll be better in a few weeks when I get this damn cast off."

"Then it's on to physical therapy," Liesle said. "A new lesson in patience for this impatient man of mine."

"Patience as a virtue is not something I've ever understood," Hank admitted.

"Oh, by the way," Liesle said. "Dan asked me to offer his congratulations, as well. He couldn't make it. They are neck-deep in reviewing the tapes they found in Mitchel's safe deposit box."

Nancy smirked. "That megalomaniac just had to keep video record of himself for each hit. Amazing. Are they still going to give him the deal?"

Hank shook his head, a smug smile in place. "The deal was only for your attempted murder. Once they found the evidence of all the other hits, that deal went out the window. Mitchel's going to jail for good."

"I just wish Bucciano was going with him," Frank said.

Hank shook his head. "I told you he was good. We've never been able to get the goods on him."

"And the only reason you did this time is because it's what he wanted." Frank grimaced, disliking the fact that he had been the instrument of that coup by the hit man.

"Well, if it's any consolation he'll be going to jail for several years," Liesle said. "At least he's off the street for awhile."

Frank shrugged. "It's better than nothing."

"Enough about work," Hank said. "You two are supposed to be celebrating. Come on, Lise, take me for a spin around the dance floor."

"Oh, good God!" Liesle said with a tolerant smile, as she obliged her husband's request.

In their wake, Liesle and Hank had left a clear path out the back door and across the veranda, and Frank took Nancy's hand and urged her along the fading escape route. "Come on, let's steal a few minutes alone, while no one is accosting us."

They didn't make it far, as people they had not yet greeted closed in to offer congratulations.

Guy broke through, and stepped in front of them with a questioning smile. "It looked like you two were trying to escape."

Frank gripped his hand in a handshake, and looked at him pleadingly, "I just want a few minutes alone with Nan, Guy. Can you help me out?"

The big man grinned, and escorted them toward the staircase leading down into the gardens, brushing well-wishers aside with a pleasant aplomb that didn't insult.

They got to the head of the main path that led through manicured gardens in the back yard, and Guy shielded them from view. "There is a great little nook off the main path, just past the twisted bushes. I don't think anyone will see you there."

He leaned down and gave Nancy a kiss on the cheek. "You look gorgeous tonight, Nan. I love the necklace."

"Thank you, Guy. For everything." Nancy smiled at him, fingering the pearls, making it apparent what the thanks was for.

He clapped Frank on the back. "You two better get going before you're spotted. But don't be gone too long, or Vonnie'll kill me."

They hurried along the path and were quickly ensconced in the solitude of the Whitney Estate grounds. They stopped near the twisted trees, searching for the entrance to the garden Guy had suggested. Nancy found it and motioned Frank over.

He caught her around the waist as he joined her. "As difficult as the entrance was to find, it should be perfect."

Nancy chuckled. "I don't think you're supposed to hide out from your own engagement party, Frank Hardy."

"I don't care."

Tangling one hand into her hair, he leaned in and kissed her, allowing this private kiss to deepen. Her arms slipped up around his neck and their bodies melted together. This was where he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

He scooped her off her feet and ducked into the secluded little garden, shushing her giggle with another kiss. He hoped against hope that no one found them, at least for a little while.

The garden wasn't more than eight feet by six feet. At one end a small model of an oriental-style pagoda sat atop a pile of flat river-bottom stone. A hidden pump sent a trickling stream of water from the pagoda down into the coy pond at the base of the pile. A wrought iron swing with oriental print cushions sat to one side, and the intimate garden space was screened from the path by a hedge of Korean lilacs in full bloom. The flowers lent their heady scent to the ambiance, completing the romantic setting.

Frank sat Nancy gently in the swing, and dropped to a knee in front of her. "The truth is that I've been trying to find the right time to do this properly."

Nancy sat forward, blue eyes wide and sparkling in the light of the nearly full moon overhead. "Do what, Frank?"

"Well, a hospital room is hardly the right place to propose to the woman you love."

He took her hand and gazed up into her face. "I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life, Nancy. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy - if you'll let me."

Nancy cupped his face in her hands. "That is a two-way street, Frank. I love you so much."

"Will you marry me?"

Nancy chuckled. "I've already told you I would."

"Just answer the question, Drew. Will you marry me?"

Her smile was tender, and he thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest it was so full.

"Yes, I will marry you."

He pulled the ring box out of his pocket and opened it. Taking the ring out, he slipped it onto her finger. The wait had been worth it when he saw the happy surprise glistening in her eyes.

"Oh Frank, my mother's engagement ring. It's so perfect." She threw her arms around his neck and he closed his eyes and just held her.

Several minutes later they sat curled together in the swing. The diamond and sapphire setting of the engagement ring caught the moonlight, and sparkled almost as brightly as Nancy's eyes. Frank would have liked to just stay here the rest of the evening, but he knew they had to return to the party. They were the guests of honor, after all.

"We should head back." His disappointment at that fact couldn't be disguised.

Nancy kissed his cheek. "Yes, we should. Thank you, Frank, for making this the most wonderful evening of my life."

He stood and pulled her up into his arms. "I plan to fill your life with wonderful evenings, sweetheart." He held up the finger that was no longer bare, but held a symbol of his promise to her.

She looked at the ring and a smile curved her lips. "I just can't help but wonder . . ."

"What?" he prompted.

Her eyes lifted to his, and he caught the teasing glint in their brilliant blue just in time to brace himself for her response.

"Where is a tattoo parlor when you need one!"

THE END

**A/N:**

Just some fluff to end the ride :) I hope you enjoyed the story. Thanks to everyone who reviewed – every review gave me a smile, and brightened my day!


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